


Ever, Greater Heights

by CreativeLiterature



Category: Final Fantasy VIII, Jackass (Movies) RPF, The Sims (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28520505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreativeLiterature/pseuds/CreativeLiterature
Summary: The wealthy Cartwrights become the First Family! Yet another clan rules behind the scenes, and Pleasantview is just one of their playgrounds.
Relationships: Irvine Kinneas/Original Female Character(s), Johnny Knoxville/Original Female Character(s)





	1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This is a work of fiction and copyright respected, no profit is being made, etc.  
There is mention of characters from other worlds, as can be expected when creating a Sim partner._

LYDIA

Lydia Cartwright was a proud woman; none could be prouder than her, she sighed, as she looked at the expanse of property that was under her name: hers as well as her husband's, for they were married, she and Garrett Cartwright, one in holy spirit and ghost, as well as legally binding union: and so the property which was theirs was just as well hers, if she ever chose to leave him.

But not now! And certainly not ever, she envisaged.

The property was three stories, with symmetry on either side leaning to wraparound gardens along a path; there was a garage to the left housing Garrett's black sedan (he would only ever be chauffeured by limousine, from now on) and Lydia's "day" car, a white sedan (there was no "night" car, but she, too, intended never to put her hands behind a steering wheel again).

Inside, there was a lavish dining room appointed with paintings on the walls and candelabras; a living room with sofas at the right angle and porcelain antiques; the kitchen wasn't big, but it housed the latest appliances for the staff to concern themselves with.

Then, there were the bedrooms. Lydia took a deep breath, as big as had been needed to birth her four children. Two boys and two girls; each in either wing of the house and sharing a bathroom in bold blue or pale pink. The middle of the second storey had been devoted to chaise longues and a view over the front porch which was _hers_ alone.

The third storey comprised her and Garrett's bedroom; an ensuite and his study, and it was here Lydia imagined she would sit, night after night, removing her pearl earrings in her night robe, at Pleasantview: the land her husband had rose to the highest office to, and the social rank which indelibly decided her as the _real_ power behind the office.

For she would sneer at all her lessers; the Cartwright fortune alone guaranteed that she was the wealthiest, and now the most powerful woman - _family_ \- in Pleasantview.

It hadn't been easy, not with two of her four children on the cusp of scandal - but she had merited great applause from her peers behind envious smiles, and so she invited the butler inside and to his quarters, and the maids and gardeners and cook who scurried, and while Garrett went to his first day as mayor by limousine and her children to private school, Lydia made to close the front door behind her yet the butler got there first.

Vacuum suctioned in the armageddon bunker of luxury, she intended never to leave again. She intended to rule with a social fist, and hammer down her opponents who would make her but lift a finger. Of course, her only weapon of choice was to nag her husband.

And who would argue with the mayor? Who, indeed, Lydia thought to herself.

GARRETT

Garrett was tireless, proud like his wife but a quiet man, and not one necessarily who listened, as his wife had found out early in their marriage, and had never stopped hectoring him for it. Garrett knew what was required to succeed up the ladder, and through a series of scandals which saw his peers fall, he rose not out of chance but out of grim pleasure that he should hold onto any rungs he might clamber to while the others burned and fizzled.

His money helped put his wife in pearls and his children in private school; yet even so, a career in the business sector was fraught like piranhas, and one needed to be omniscient to read the stock market; and so his wife pushed him into public office, where she was an asset beyond any other.

His wife was handsome, with hand cream and pearls and a bob as firmly cut as the downward slope of her mouth, her smile a cat's when she got what she wanted, her claws never quite letting go. She circled parties a diva; attuned to gossip and to find other's misery; she gladdened to find flaws in others and heartily rose to swat off any perceived slights in her status: she would die before admitting failure.

To say his wife was an cold operator was to miss the point: scandal had evaded her so far, and a fainting couch must be nearby. She merely made use of other's weaknesses which happened to be in proximity and by which she had ascended on their flaming coattails.

Her measure of success was as Garrett's; partly luck, but neither of them were naive.

Garrett sat in the limousine with Federal Fortress at his back, the residence he claimed as mayor, and enjoyed a cigar out the window wound down while his driver navigated the early-morning Pleasantview traffic. His staff would be waiting, he knew; his team in place to provide a solid bedrock on which he might command the town - he was not manipulative, grandiose or borderline psychopathic - but to call the shots was not a miss at his ego, to buy his wife the things which would get her off his back at last was a blessing, and to ensure a legacy for his children was praise well-merited indeed.

He had become a success: the golf course was his, the toast at restaurants raised in his name, and never could he fall, he would ensure it. Not with his wife by his side, he would not relinquish holding the reins for the first time in his life, being so in control of this town; his wife would not allow it, for one.

His limousine arrived outside City Hall, and the few protestors waving signs in garbled manner he paid no attention to: his suit was fine, his tie clip in place, and advisors hurried by as he walked up the white steps, past the columns, and into his office where the doors closed to assure him of a quiet, peaceful transition as mayor of Pleasantview.

"Your wife called," his secretary placed a note from her clipboard on his desk.

Of course she would: she had already discussed with him last night the budget she would need to ensure the property was outfitted with everything she needed. It was not enough that the house had three stories, five bedrooms, four bathrooms and a sweeping garden; she wanted a pool built on the right side with a sauna and ballet complex; the back lawn was to feature a three-storied rec room for two of their "delinquent" (spirited) children, and on the other side of the back lawn, a helipad, for the helicopter he did not own.

Garrett was a rich man, but it would take time in office to accrue the money with which he might please his wife, and knew that a few rounds of bartering were yet ahead. The phone on his desk rang, and he glanced at his secretary as though she might divine who dared call direct.

"I haven't given out the official number… " she sweated, and as Garrett watched her hurry to her desk, his curiosity swamped him and he picked up the line.

"Yes?" he answered tersely.

"Mayor Cartwright," came the reply, as curt and harried as his. "This is Janet, Adam Spencer's secretary. He would like for you to attend a dinner tonight at his home."

Garrett was baffled; he had never heard the name before, and his wife was preparing a family dinner that was a private celebration of their ascendance above all.

"You misunderstand," Garrett spoke slowly, as though to a child. "I have never met Mr. Spencer and nor could I put off many important functions tonight to attend. How did you get this number?"

"Mayor," the secretary replied, more firmly. "I would request you to open the file in your drawer."

Surprised and baffled, Garrett searched in his top drawer where the manila folder resided. He shook off the mouthing queries of his secretary and indicated that she should close the door. He flipped open the contents, his eyes widening, a strain building between his eyes.

"Shall I RSVP you and your wife?" the secretary interceded.

Garrett nodded, and fumbled out some words of a reply. He scratched the address on the back of his wife's note, and frowned as he vaguely remembered the place. He put the phone down and wondered how he was going to break the news to his wife.

LYDIA

Lydia was out shopping, when she wasn't organising her husband or her children or her _staff_ , now that she had enough to cater her needs.

And were they many!

Her husband, she knew, would crack after a couple dinners. It wasn't enough that they had the biggest, most luxurious property in all Pleasantview: they had to go bigger, better. Of course garish was a word she did not use, nor gauche: she did not _try_ to impress, she simply was.

In the clothing store downtown, she wandered idly as a shop assistant followed her round, and why couldn't these racks be brought to her? Why did she have to schlep downtown with her chauffeur eating a sandwich while she waited? Especially when the smell of onion and cheese persisted long after she rose the partition from the back seat.

Pearls and twinsets and never too high a heel: her children had never seen her without makeup on that she could stand, and her husband that he might see her nude might only count his blessings. She would not stoop to using sex as a weapon: he was simply disinterested, most nights. And so she nagged and tugged and insisted he do what she wanted, and in the cases she lost, she would rather not talk about; thank you very much.

And now Garrett had called, and so spurred her injurious urgency with a much needed wardrobe adjustment that warranted satisfying at once. He had only spoken so far as to say that the client was an important one, possibly the most important, and that they needed to impress - Lydia scoffed, and at a dress she liked but now could not appear so eager as to return to, as the salesperson nodded in approval, her scarlet little face bland.

Lydia had always hated young women who might steal her husband's attention - not entirely, as her grip was quite tight enough, thank you - yet little reminders of those lithe bodies sent her into shrieks. She could not regain her youth or her naivete, and so she turned to others, chiefly her husband, to employ her wiles on others that they might crumble.

"But who are they?" Lydia had pondered, while the butler served her tea in the dining room, vast and empty with pictures on the walls and she minced her lips, so that the butler might try a little harder next time, though he had done a perfectly adequate job.

And so the thoughts whirled: she was the wife of the mayor, who else would she ever need to impress? She always dressed to impress, like a diva but without a plunging neckline or a singing career, and so who pressed upon Garrett to insist she dressed ever _less_ than perfect?

Speaking of…

Her eyes fell upon a woman roughly her age who had entered; her blonde hair limp, her makeup minimal, a gold watch on her wrist wearing a white button down tucked into beige slacks and black flats. A corporate wife, Lydia sniffed, until she picked up the aroma of soil.

Lydia was too well trained to confide in the sales assistant or in one of the ladies of her circle, of which she was now queen bee; her eyes went to the smudge of dirt, the gardening gloves in the slack handbag from which the woman produced a card. She stood as still as the statue of Pleasantview's founder in the square as the woman paid for a navy blue tie and clutched the cord handles of the shopping bag as she hurried out to a tan sedan in the parking lot.

Lydia felt itchy, all of a sudden; the place, touting the most expensive clothing and jewellery that could be found in Pleasantview, this town her husband now ruled as mayor, suddenly felt tawdry and inexpensive. Perhaps he would need to build a new shopping mall, next to that skyscraper that was almost complete, which would ensure a hive of activity from far beyond. She would not stand for inferior products or people; not along her rise to power or after it had been claimed in her manicured nails.

GARRETT

Garrett sat beside his wife in the limo, the cityscape passing by and the scenery of trees, birch and pine as the road became decidedly private, though no gated community existed to separate the two.

"Where are we going?" his wife wondered, as she glanced out the tinted windows, as the forest spread out beyond. "I hope it's not some little shack or hunting lodge."

"I wouldn't bring you out here if it was a concern," Garrett fidgeted with his tie pin; he had only been nervous on the election night, even though his victory had been assured, and now here he was again: nervous.

"Don't fidget, dear. People will think things," his wife offered.

The limousine pulled up to the old Landgraab property: quite expansive in size, with less bedrooms than the mayor's residence, but the place looked stellar.

"It's a good thing, too," Garrett noted, as his wife smiled that their place was bigger, and better furnished. "The Landgraabs didn't lean towards my views."

"It's not all luck," his wife squeezed his hand. Tonight, at least she could spend some time with other rich couples not quite as fortunate as they; and without her children, of who she had only managed to corral one or two to her brand of parenting. "This was a lovely idea on the spur."

He raised his eyebrows, but long since anticipated her changes in mood, and expected tonight to be one of them. Their chauffeur held open their door, and his wife stepped out first, glancing around at the well-lit front garden, the garage that seemed to melt into the trees, the roundabout driveway with a quaint fountain in the circle.

"There's not even a front gate," his wife alerted, as Garrett stepped out of the limo. "Burglars could just walk into the property and take what they liked."

He spied the butler outside under the portico leading to the front door.

"They'd have to hike all the way up here. You don't see many other houses here, do you, Lydia?"

"Well, no," Lydia clutched her pearls, eyeing up the butler who stared blandly as they approached. "Who would want to live out here?"

"Mayor, Mrs. Cartwright," the butler inclined his head and held open the door.

Garrett took off his coat and held it for the butler as his wife gazed around at the foyer, her heels clacking on the tiles. Staircases on either side led to the second storey, with archways on either side leading further within. The house had less rooms than theirs, but it made the most of its size: echoing, spartan, stark. People-sized vases with bouquets of flowers stood to either side of the front door, where through the palladian windows he could spy his chauffeur sneaking a cigarette.

"If you would please follow me," the butler seemed to be waiting patiently for them. "Mr Spencer is in the living room."

His wife, ever proud, seemed irked beneath the curiosity that swamped her; that had swamped her as she managed to find the finer things in life her playthings. She could not cosset to avarice; better that she maintain that she had always known privilege.

And so Garrett followed the butler, his wife tense by his side, into the living room.

His first impression was that the elements of gold and blue meshed together well to provide an antique, old-timey feel. The fire crackling in the gate sparked a log as his host rose from the couch, his hand extended, with a white shirt tucked into tan chinos.

"Mr Spencer," Garrett nodded, and sat opposite his host as his wife glanced up at the butler who bent to offer a tray with freshly steaming teapot and cups.

"You must be wondering why I invited you here," Adam's accent was the Queen's English, and if Garrett judged correctly, hiding foppish mannerisms behind a controlled exterior. "Ah, Phillipa. You've arrived just in time to meet our guests."

His wife practically cricked her neck and saw with shock the woman from the clothing store; she still wore the white shirt and beige slacks, with the aroma of soil.

"So glad to meet you," Phillipa offered her hand, her voice quiet, and his wife recoiled to see the dirt under her fingers. "If you'll excuse me, I must check on dinner."

LYDIA

Lydia washed her hands in the sink, having excused herself from what was clearly, straining, a men's conversation. She glanced around at the minimal, black-and-white tiled bathroom, one of two of which the entrances were beneath the staircases in the foyer, and counted herself curious how this family had made such inroads to her husband's favor.

While Mr Spencer's blue eyes had never wavered from her husband, she had been appalled at his wife; perhaps she had been his gardener? No sense or style, Lydia sniffed.

She peeked inside the dining room, laid with napkins and china; the fireplace had a vase on its mantlepiece, and high backed chairs flanked one of the larger windows.

It was timeless, classical: what Lydia embodied to show, that the feel of money had always passed through her hands. Really, Lydia pursed her lips: it was only that _this_ house devoted more space to the fewer rooms it had that made it grandiose.

The mayor's mansion she and her husband inhabited was on a larger scale!

"Lydia," Phillipa smiled, coming out of the kitchen. "You must be hungry."

Disarmed by the earnestness, Lydia could but swallow her smirk. Her eyes ranged over Phillipa's clothing: so bland, so boring. And the cooking smells did not hide the soil.

"You must forgive me," Phillipa wrung her hands. "I've only just arrived home."

Lydia could well understand the hassle and bustle of trying to organise her husband and four children; yet that was only early on in her marriage, when the money hadn't quite flowed through and she could only afford one maid. Thereafter, there had been nannies; and two of her four children remained unruly, yet there had been such clamor and confusion in the campaign, she couldn't have stopped herself in the whirl of activity...

"I know exactly what you mean," Lydia leaned in, with a hand on Phillipa's wrist. Her thumb rubbed the underside of Phillipa's small gold watch. "There is never a dull moment as a politician's wife. And I fear it'll only get busier!"

Phillipa led Lydia into the kitchen; a cavernous space, but then Lydia reminded herself that this mansion had more space to play with, but not as many rooms in exchange. Phillipa nodded to the chef in whites who consulted with the butler nearby breathing down his neck.

"You look so familiar," Lydia frowned, appraising Phillipa whose spine was as fragile as fine china. She hungered to know why this couple had summoned her husband so suddenly, and could not wait to nag it out of her husband. "Perhaps I've seen you at a party?"

"I'm afraid I don't get out much," Phillipa shrugged, and Lydia narrowed her eyes; she wondered if Mr Spencer kept her in the greenhouse.

"I suspect I shall be the same," Lydia nodded along, now that her favourite shopping haunt had been ruined. "Though apart from spas. And I love to travel. Garrett and I visited Champs Les Sims for our twentieth anniversary… "

"It's a nice spot," Phillipa nodded. "There's a small two bedroom we rent each summer."

"Do you have children?" Lydia envied Phillipa's slimmer waist.

"A son, Leo," Phillipa smiled. "He's just graduated from Sim State University."

Lydia frowned; every chip in the bowl could get into _that_ establishment.

"It seems so long ago since I graduated from Academie Le Tour," Lydia fiddled with her pearls, hoping the remark had the intended effect. "It truly was a learning experience."

"Did you meet Garrett there?" Phillipa listened, as riveted as a child at a puppet show.

"Oh, yes," Lydia smiled proudly. "He was summa cum laude in economics, you know."

"You must have a lot on your shoulders," Phillipa nodded. "The First Lady of Pleasantview."

"I'm not one for titles," Lydia waved away, with hope, the aroma of soil. "You know, it's for the people. The _people_ of Pleasantview have no greater leader than my husband - "

Lydia, distracted, watched as Phillipa offered a mild apology to converse with the butler who had been so patiently waiting nearby. Annoyed, Lydia toyed with her pearls and glanced up as Phillipa returned.

"Dinner is almost ready. I must rush upstairs and change; but please, feel free to take a tour."

GARRETT

Garrett sat at the head of the dining table, fidgeting with his cufflinks. His wife, returned from her tour, gave him a sharp look and smoothed her napkin over her lap.

He met Adam's eye across the table as the butler served the autumn salad; thin sprigs of lettuce and mayonnaise that surely only his wife would appreciate. He bent his fork to the listless tomatoes and bits of cheese and wondered what his wife had been up to.

Phillipa had changed into a tan knit dress with a cardigan buttoned over it, her blonde hair pulled back into a clip; perfectly polite, but wan and drawn over her food. At the precise moment when conversation permitted such, his wife asked the million-Simoleon question.

"You never told us, Mr Spencer. What do you do in Pleasantview?"

Adam shared a glance with his wife who shared his solidarity before dropping her eyes.

"I'm in Business," Adam replied.

"Oh, yes," Lydia mused. "My husband was in Business for a while, until he found his spark in Politics. Have you ever considered a bid?"

"Not against your husband," Adam laughed, but it was forced humour; Garrett was sure that Phillipa never willingly laughed at her husband's jokes. "I prefer to work behind the scenes."

"The people of Pleasantview are behind the scenes for my husband, so many scurrying like little ants," Lydia nodded. "It was such a surprise to receive your invite - "

Lydia paused at her husband's look; but her curiosity overwhelmed her.

"Forgive us for intruding on your dinner plans," Phillipa spoke up, the squeak of a mouse; and Lydia was a cat, ready to play with her food. "We know the importance of family."

"You have four children, is that correct?" Adam interrupted.

"Yes," Garrett nodded, dry mouthed. "My eldest, Alistair; twins Conrad and Alexandra; and my youngest, Katrina."

"All go to private school," Lydia announced. "Alistair's just home from Academie Le Tour."

"You both must be so proud," Phillipa nodded, with not an ounce of guile or condescension. "Four children… and a political career. It must have been tough."

Garrett glanced at his wife; and in their shared look, the camaraderie of but a moment, and only a dozen amongst two decades of marriage at how far they had come.

"It was tough, at first," Garrett nodded. "But as I rose the political ladder, more opportunities allowed me to secure a legacy for my wife and children."

"You must make every opportunity count," Adam nodded to Garrett, with an unaccountably personal nod. "You must enter life armed, or surrender immediately."

Lydia frowned, a memory tugging at her. "I'm sure I recognise that from somewhere. Yes. From some show my Katrina watches. Isn't that from _Gilmore Girls_?"

Adam coughed nervously and Garrett relaxed, his bowels loosening; he laughed and the whole table caught it, and Phillipa wore a strained smile.

"Yes," Adam lingered, like a bad smell. "A guilty pleasure of mine, I'm afraid."

"We all have our vices," Lydia tapped Adam on the wrist, as a matron to a young boy; and he jumped, and she withdrew. "Although if you were to ask me, it's shopping!"

Garrett cleared his throat and Adam studied his plate.

"We must go shopping," Phillipa smiled across the table to Lydia. "You must know all the good places."

"It's a date!" Lydia declared, and with that the high point of the meal.

LYDIA

" - what a curious, funny little woman she is," Lydia sniffed, as the limousine wound down through the twists and turns of the hilly road, where the spread of Pleasantview's buildings and shops and the almost-finished shine of the first skyscraper jutted for the moon. "Smelling like a flowerpot and so joyless. No wonder. I wouldn't marry that man."

Lydia usually took joy in overpowering her husband's attempts to have his turn in the conversation; his silence was off putting. Her curiosity still swamped her.

"He didn't say much about what he did," Lydia tugged at her pearls. "Business? Well, so were you."

Lydia knew her husband was bracing for the inevitable hit. If he would not confess upon her subtle hints, then she would begin collecting lumber for the battering ram.

"I mean, you're the mayor, and as that twig of a woman reminded me, I'm First Lady… "

Garrett drummed his fingers on his leg. "Yes, I'm the mayor. And how did I get here?"

"Well, hard work for one," Lydia sniffed. "Knowing the right people."

"And now I'm at the top of the heap?" Garrett questioned, and Lydia was flummoxed.

"Of course!" Lydia took it as a personal insult. "We are the most powerful family; the richest, to be sure. Well, we can't afford the penthouse apartment - "

Here, Lydia jabbed a finger at the glittering skyscraper in the middle of Pleasantview; almost perversely out of sorts with the humdrum red-brick and coastal buildings.

"I wouldn't live in an apartment anyway," Lydia sniffed. "Full of rats. And roaches."

The silence persisted, as the limousine wound through traffic, and began its ascent on the other side of town, up to the apex; the hill overlooking Pleasantview where the mayor's mansion overlooked all.

"I don't mind seeing them again," Lydia pondered, as the butler waited on the portico. "But it's funny. You would almost think they have as much money as we do."


	2. Chapter 2

KATRINA

Katrina was her mother's daughter; at least, in most things. She enjoyed shopping and making herself beautiful and ensuring that she was the queen bee of private school - which she _was_ , especially now that her father was the mayor - and stepping off the school bus, she enjoyed looks of envy and camaraderie and wolf-whistles from every avenue.

Her lipstick was glossy and her heels high and her fashion was on point - she was as obsessive as her mother as ensuring her look was perfect; to secure her social status and the lead of her peers, of which her cult following consisted of little bees who followed her round and did what she said all day.

Of course, college was on the horizon. Academic Le Tour had already been paid for; of all her siblings, she was her mother's favourite, or at least her favourite _daughter_. Alistair was so similar to her father it was gross; and Alexandra's first pair of cargo pants had slid her mother's eye over to her precocious younger daughter.

On any given day, Katrina expected to play the lead: she meant to pursue a career in Show Business. Not that she'd tell her parents that (they knew already), and certainly not for the money (but when her folks kicked the bucket, she'd only get a fourth).

She was destined to move to Bridgeport, the glittering capital of stardom where so many movie stars frolicked. Theirs was a gated community of star studded mansions, or in the city centre where skyscrapers were dime a dozen. Even as the bus drove her to school, she had glanced up at the finished product in Pleasantview; a glittering magic wand amid a dry hubbub of brick buildings and wished she were a young adult, so she might finagle one of the apartments. It was truly something that her father had arranged, to be sure; one of his deals as a Business-something, to have it built and ready by the time he had become mayor.

"Who is that?"

Katrina glowed with mild pride that even at _this_ school, there were still students who remained to know her. Were they living under a rock? She turned, expecting to see their mouths agape, yet their gazes were over her shoulder, and miffed, she turned to see the ruckus. The bell rang yet she daren't move an inch.

The truck which stopped at the kerb belched a blonde waif of a girl; not dissimilar to herself except that she held a character of confidence which kept her head high and glancing neither to one side nor to the other.

"Have fun," called the driver in the truck, he in a cowboy hat, and what was unmistakably a shotgun in the back.

"A scholarship student," Katrina gathered the gazes fleeing from her own and realised what she had to do.

She followed the girl through the corridors into their first class, where students sat behind desks and opened their books and the lecturer rapped smartly on the blackboard with a switch.

"Students, would you please welcome our newest addition to the class," the lecturer, himself puffed in ego with a mustache and a fine coat. "Hikari Kinneas."

"Kinneas?" Katrina mumbled, and thought that she had never heard a more bizarre name in her life. Of course, she was a scholarship student; she could no more pick her surname than her luck in life.

"Where are you joining us from, Miss Kinneas?" inquired the lecturer.

"Champs Les Sims," Hikari nodded, and the melody of her voice perked many a guy's eyebrows and glance, as Katrina scowled.

"And where did you study?" inquired the lecturer, perhaps too taken in by his curiosity.

"I was homeschooled," Hikari blurted.

"Ah," the lecturer's conclusion was that of a book snapped shut. "Then let us continue. Class… "

Katrina paid as little mind to her books as she had every day; she idled with her pencil and wondered about the little homeschooled girl who had tramped here from Champs Les Sims, in a truck, no less. There was not a streak of cruelty in Katrina; at least, not one quickly mollified by obedience, and so she resolved upon the ring of the bell, to find out all she could, and - if this girl was a threat - to befriend her, to know her secrets.

"Hi," Katrina sat beside Hikari on the bench in the inner courtyard, students milling by, sunshine glowing above, the prestige of starched shirts and designer backpacks heaving and sighing. "You must be so out of your element here."

"I am," Hikari admitted, and Katrina was taken aback by her frankness. "I'm only new here."

Katrina paused, not wanting to seem too direct, then exhaled in a gush,

"So, homeschooled. That's very interesting."

"It wasn't, really. It was just my parents. Mostly it was very hot."

"But - " Katrina paused, trying to frame her question. "So, I saw your boyfriend. He was _so_ cool in that cowboy hat."

"My - boyfriend?" Hikari frowned, puzzled. "No, that's my dad."

"Oh, yes, sorry. I had no clue," Katrina held her hand to her chest. "My mistake."

"He's the best," Hikari emitted, dazedly.

"And your mom?" Katrina leaned. "I have the best relationship with mine; oh. We go shopping and get manicures all the time."

Hikari's smile waned and she dropped her eyes. Katrina's eyes flashed like a jaguar.

"Did I say something?" Katrina placed her hand on Hikari's shoulder.

"No, no," Hikari smiled brightly; brittle. "It's fine."

"You know," Katrina said conspiratorially. "I would go crazy if my mom home schooled me. We're too alike, you know!"

Hikari nodded but the warmth had gone out of the sun. Katrina kept her gaze but Hikari glanced up to the clouds. Katrina felt a vague discomfort of having gone _too_ far.

"I should probably grab some lunch at the cafeteria," Hikari rose.

"Oh, I'll come with," Katrina smiled, determined to steer this doe into a moving bus if necessary. "You're probably like me. All these guys looking at you; you'll need a friend if you're to survive here."

Hikari smiled up at Katrina with the naivety of youth; and somewhere, Katrina resolved that she would help her fellow peer. But first, she must know everything about her; she must crack her open and glimpse if the pearl inside has any mud to scrape out, first.

LEO

Leo drove his Yomoshoto up the hill leading to his home; his graduation stuff in the back seat and boot of the car. He had always loved living here; the silence and seclusion of the forest. His only neighbors were the Altos; yet they had never finagled an invite in.

His mother itched to have more friends, but as his father said to them both:

"We must be discreet. Who needs those people poking around in our affairs?"

And so Leo tuned onto the lane and saw his family home rise up before him. He drove around the little path with the fountain and parked out where the butler stood nearby, and so too did his parents, smiling widely. Even together, Leo had always noticed that one was not quite as comfortable as the other.

"Leo," Phillipa gushed, and scored the first hug. Her hair was lank but she wore a tan dress and her cheeks glowed.

"Dad," Leo then turned to his father, whose smile broke and with some surprise; he barely smiled.

Leo followed his parents inside, and the scent of hamburgers from the kitchen wafted through. The butler organised maids to help park the car and unload his things, with the quiet efficiency of mice.

"You must want to see your room," Leo's father smiled. "We will be in the study with tea."

Leo took the stairs, hand heavy on the railing, feeling all the nostalgia hit him at once. He hadn't many friends as he grew up; only his aunts, uncles or cousins. He had attended private school, but any friends he made, he was to go to _their_ house and for a while, they had thought he was a scholarship student…

Leo rounded the corridor and entered his room. It was themed in blue and black, a comfortable bed with a wide screen TV opposite, an ensuite, an antique wardrobe and bookshelves galore, for he was literary and a dreamer. His father pushed him to pursue his creative desires and his mother stood by whatever made him happy.

Oddly, Leo was an introvert not very troubled by life; though his parents had money, he had not grown to be precocious even though their dealings led to him being the center of their attention. If anything, he held his parents together; their strange affinity he could not quite unlock, bound only by the love they had for him, he had never seen them as affectionate as he had other students' parents…

PHILLIPA

Phillipa sat sipping her tea in the living room. Her husband sat adjacent, stretching his legs and the butler disappeared in a whiff of air.

"Lydia has invited me to a late luncheon," Phillipa admitted. "Though the timing couldn't be worse."

"You want to be friends with her?" Adam raised an eyebrow. "She's an insufferable bore. Proud and haughty, ever clutching to her pearls."

"It would be nice to have some friends," Phillipa stared down at the china pattern of her saucer. "There's only the garden club, and to have lunch there."

"That's all you need," Adam reminded. " _You_ are the most important person in my life. _You_ are not dictated to; who does Lydia think she is?"

"She's the mayor's wife, the First Lady," Phillipa reasoned. "I should make some effort."

"Nonsense. Mayors come and go. _We_ do not kowtow to anyone." Adam concluded.

"Yes," Phillipa agreed idly, for nothing stirred her husband's fervor more than that she mingle with the masses. "Well, in any case. We're to attend your sister's housewarming."

"Ah, yes," Adam's eyes lit up. "I'm looking forward to it."

"I should probably buy a new dress… " Phillipa pondered.

"You didn't for the mayor," Adam scoffed. "And nor shall you for my sister. There is no need to impress anyone."

"It's just for me," Phillipa pleaded. "It's not as though you don't have the money."

"Our money, once we married," Adam reached for her hand, and Phillipa gave a weak smile. "It's enough to have the tailor round to custom fit. Buying from a _shop_ gives word that we are trying to fit in."

"Yes," Phillipa agreed, and sipped her tea once more. "Well, I'll go see how Leo's doing."

LYDIA

Lydia glanced round at her cohorts on the plush sofas, with some mild disagreement. Although she had old-money Bella Goth and new-face Vito Alto in her midst, she had been surprised when Phillipa Spencer had called with a conflict.

"You must come round," Lydia had insisted. "It's just a late luncheon with some of the girls."

"I've already plans," Phillipa apologised. "My sister-in-law's having a housewarming… "

While Lydia had been disappointed that Phillipa - of all things! - had turned her luncheon down, there was advantage to be gained in the one currency she loved almost as much as money: gossip.

Lydia took her seat with the butler offering a tray of cucumber sandwiches, and appraised who she had chose as her 'friends': Vita was frightfully garish but practically her partner in crime for gossip; while Bella had married very well and knew all the families in Pleasantview. And so she had two no better partners for lunch, especially now they it was just them three.

"You must tell me," Lydia decided. "Who are these Spencers? I mean, they uproot my husband for a dinner on the night of his mayoralty. And Garrett won't say anything - it's all a boy's club in those halls."

"They keep to themselves," Vita shrugged. "When the Landgraabs moved, I counted my blessings. They were always lording it over us. Now, the Spencers? Very discreet. You wouldn't even know they were rich, from the way they dress!"

"That Phillipa," Lydia nodded. "She's in the garden club but dresses as though she lives there! As limp as lettuce!"

"Yes, yes," Vita nodded. "And the husband, so stiff."

"What of their son, Leo?" Lydia sniffed. "Sim State? Are they heavily mortgaged?"

"He must be stupid," Vita nodded. "It can't be for money's sake that he didn't get in."

Vita rose from the couch to use the ladies, and Lydia noticed in her babble that Bella had said not a word.

"Bella, what say you?" Lydia peered, almost suspicious. "What do you know of these… stiff-and-soil Spencers?"

"Not much," Bella gulped her tea, stinging her tongue. "They bought the Landgraab's property to be sure, and they seem to be old-money, discreet in their ways."

"Well," Lydia sniffed. "That hardly explains why my husband rushed to drive me into their part of town. I mean, even your Mortimer would think to make plans first!"

Bella smiled vaguely. "Mortimer doesn't have much influence in the political sphere."

"Well, he wouldn't," Lydia shook her head. "She spends all day with plants and he's in Business. Well, so was my husband. I've met plenty of CEOs and chairmans as Garrett rose in the political sphere."

Bella sipped her tea and glanced up as Vita wandered back, dully jealous of the few rooms she had peeked into.

"Well, that bathroom is a design success, you should be very proud, Lydia," Vita nodded. "You can see the skyscraper all the way across town from this hill."

"The view is very nice," Lydia nodded. "I wonder when it will be finished?"

"Very recently," Bella interrupted, surprising Lydia and Vita.

"Oh, my husband must be unveiling it," Lydia smiled proudly. "Apartments aren't for me; but I've caught my Katrina eyeing one, don't you worry. But who would want to live there?"

"The view," Vita nodded. "You know, my Nick inquired after the price of one of the apartments - you know, for the poor side of his family - and he was told they're all taken!"

"All?" Lydia screwed up her nose. "Let's not hope this town becomes like Bridgeport. All those lights. I'd have a fit. I'll have to ask Garrett how it went - "

"I asked Mortimer when I came home the other day," Bella spoke up, and attention swung to her. "He told me nobody in town he'd talked to had bought an apartment."

"Then who could it be for?" Lydia burst. "If nobody from Bridgeport buys, it's a monstrosity! It's a failure of public funds!"

As if on cue, the butler's murmurings at the front door brought her husband home. He tensed at the sight of his wife's tete-a-tete in the living room.

"Oh, Garrett," Lydia smiled, and waved him over. "You'll remember Bella and Vita, of course?"

"Of course," Garrett nodded, stern and sober in his wrinkled suit. "If you'll - "

"Garrett," Lydia cried. "We were just talking about the skyscraper. Has anyone bought any apartments?"

"I shouldn't think so," Garrett shook his head. "The building is a private residence."

Lydia tittered and Vita's throaty laugh made Bella's silence all the more obvious.

"How can a _skyscraper_ be a private residence?" Lydia curled her brow. "It has forty floors!"

"It was commissioned by my predecessor," Garrett explained. "It's always been built and intended for private use. The owner - "

"The owner?" Lydia frowned, as Vita did and Bella sipped her tea. "But - which company bought it?"

"No company," Garrett said quietly. "It was a family of three, I believe."

"That's impossible!" Lydia burst out. "Not even we - well, not even Vita or Bella or myself could afford to build a skyscraper and live in it! And a family of three? How does a family of three live in a skyscraper?"

"Very comfortably, I'd say," Garrett sorted through the post.

"Garrett!" Lydia turned to her ladies. "Can you believe him?"

"I'm shocked," Vita uttered. "Do you think some celebrity bought it?"

"No, no," Lydia shook her head. "I would've heard of them. Oh - Garrett!"

For Garrett had been on the cusp of leaving, and paused like a deer in headlights.

"You must know these things," Lydia babbled. "How on earth would someone get approved to build their own skyscraper? And who would do such a thing?"

"I suggest you ask your friend Phillipa," Garrett said.

"She said she was attending a house warming!" Lydia turned round. "It's at that skyscraper! And - and she said it was for her sister-in-law! So Mr Spencer's sister owns the building!"

"Yes," Bella nodded quietly. "It makes sense now."

Garrett padded off into his study before Lydia could reach out with her talons.

"But who is this woman?" Lydia decried. "She may not know it, but she has totally upstaged me!"

GARRETT

Garrett wandered into his study, flicking off letters from the post where he saw only junk. His butler collected it, and he barely had to lift a finger anymore. Even in public office, as mayor, he commanded and Pleasantview curled.

Except where the skyscraper was concerned… he too, had been worried by what his predecessor had set in motion as a private dwelling; certain that it had been a joke. And when he looked at the paperwork, he saw the buyer's name and jolted in shock.

"Clarissa," he had called to his secretary. "Please get Mr Spencer on the line."

"He's not answering his home phone. I'll try his office," Clarissa replied.

Garrett met a dial tone, and thought that nobody in town dared give him call waiting since he had been mayor. Even Mortimer Goth, who had been crucial in the donation of a science wing, had gladly nattered about the old days when honor mattered most.

"Garrett," Adam replied, as curt and old English as ever. "You'll have to be quick; I'm afraid."

Garrett rose at that; he was the mayor, who else could be more important than he?

"Adam," Garrett gripped the phone. "I understand the skyscraper in Pleasantview will be ready shortly."

"Well yes," Adam said mildly. "It's for my sister."

"Your sister bought it?" Garrett blurted.

"The _family_ bought it, Garrett," Adam replied. "My sister needs a place to stay."

Garrett felt as insignificant as a bug. Certainly neither he nor any family in Pleasantview could afford to build and live in an entire skyscraper; nor any celebrity in Bridgeport.

"And she is to live in it?" Garrett paused. "An entire skyscraper?"

"Well, only the penthouse, I presume," Adam sniffed. "She's holding a housewarming, she'll tell us more there. I must dash, Garrett."

And with that he was left with a dial tone; and in the present, he sat at his office of crumpled files and realised his climb to mayor had not been the top of the heap as he imagined.

He opened the desk drawer with the manila folder he had brought home, from his first day in office that he had been instructed to open by Adam's secretary. Inside were documents pertaining to almost every building and company in Pleasantview; even the skyscraper, though he had not skimmed that far back at first. All were owned by the same entity, by the same person: and the name he recognised, and he had known he was dealing with the highest rung of the Business ladder.

His wife slid in, and he knew her ladies were gone.

"Garrett," Lydia accosted. "Tell me. Who is Mr Spencer's sister? And why on earth did I not receive an invite to her housewarming?"


	3. Chapter 3

KATRINA

Katrina had been fuming all day; all the school had been talking about how Hikari lived in the skyscraper, how it was a _private residence_ and was enforced as such, and that even her father did not warrant an invite to the house warming.

Her mother was upset, and the Cartwright household was at a loss, for the first time since the election. Of course, Conrad still drove his sports car and Alexandra partied late at night; even Alistair was beginning work as a junior executive, harried and hard working.

Yet her mother had lost her pride, and her father seemed burdened. Katrina could not think what could resolve it.

Students flocked around Hikari; she a wallflower circled by the best and brightest. Katrina had sat alone at her table, for she may be the mayor's daughter, beautiful and stylish; yet Hikari nervously shied away the clamor, and sought Katrina's affection.

"I wish we hadn't come here," Hikari had cried, and Katrina had led her to the grassy knoll overlooking Pleasantview. "I don't want to be the center of attention."

Katrina was angry; but Hikari interpreted this as a sign of good faith.

"You've been so good to me, a real friend," Hikari wiped away her tears. "All these people paid no mind until they found out about where I live."

Katrina was still figuring why Hikari's father drove a truck and dressed like a weirdo, when Hikari glanced up, "You should come over, sometime. I'm sure my mom won't mind."

And with that, Katrina became the model of good behavior. She would do anything - even hide her envy and spite - just to see where Hikari lived.

"I suppose," Katrina toiled. "But just for a bit."

"Cool," Hikari's eyes lit up. "My dad'll pick us up after the final bell."

Katrina was inwardly shocked; she couldn't be seen in a truck! Yet she would not rock the boat, and so as classes flew by, Katrina grew in her a sense of hope - at last, she would unlock the secret of Hikari.

The truck pulled up outside the school, and with misgivings Katrina eyed it; no doubt so did the students. Hikari hugged her father; theirs was an affectionate relationship, of which Katrina had no doubt.

"Oh, there's not enough room, jump in the back," Irvine grinned.

And so as Hikari jumped into the back of the ute, so too did Katrina, staring at the students who replied with some envy, and this was her domain, Katrina smiled and glanced at Hikari, who only looked happy to share her company.

The ute rumbled through town, into the inner city where the lights and flash of traffic and passersby persisted. The skyscraper was glittering and enormous, and Irvine pulled his truck into a concealed garage that would be the inwards shipping if the building was owned by a company.

"Climb on out," Irvine held out his hand for Hikari, and Katrina took his hand next as one would to a footman, climbing out of a coach to the ball.

In the lobby, a security guard hovered over the desk while a butler pressed the button before they could reach it.

"Mr Kinneas, Miss Hikari, Miss Katrina," the butler nodded, as the elevator slid open.

Inside, another butler was on hand to press the penthouse button, and Katrina's stomach whooped with excitement, to the top, as the doors opened, and out first stepped Irvine and Hikari, and Katrina exited out into the foyer, where through a window she could see Pleasantview but a mudhill of scurrying ants.

The front door was already opened by a butler, and he took Irvine's coat and Hikari and Katrina's school bags. Katrina's first impression was that the apartment was very chic and white; everything had a place, she had a vague sense it had been precisely decorated.

"Honey, I'm home," Irvine swaggered off into a study of sorts, while Hikari led her into the living room; white suede couches, soft music from a recessed wall, a spray of flowers in a vase.

"This is so cool," Katrina could not help but let her mask slip. She felt on top of the world; and she wanted Hikari's life. Why was she only the daughter of a mayor? "Um, can I ask something?"

Hikari nodded seriously; feeling for once in charge, with Katrina so obviously in awe.

"What does your dad do?" Katrina asked, humbled by the gulf in wealth.

"He fixes cars and goes hunting," Hikari shrugged. "But on the weekends we spend a lot of time together."

Katrina could not piece the puzzle together. If not the dad, then…

"What does your mum do?" Katrina got comfier on the couch. "Is she a singer, an actress, a model?"

"No," Hikari admitted. "She's an artist. Well, sometimes she paints. And she likes interior design; she designed this place. But mainly she just reads magazines. She tries to design clothes and she thinks she's good but she's not."

Katrina was stumped. Hikari's parents seemed like transients of their own indulgences.

"Well," Katrina eyed all around her, and Hikari nodded in understanding. "I mean, this is such a big place."

"Well, we only live in the penthouse," Hikari replied. "The other rooms are for guests."

"So this place is a hotel?" Katrina leaned in.

"No," Hikari frowned. "We had a housewarming, and some of the guests stayed downstairs."

"Downstairs?" Katrina frowned.

"Sure," Hikari nodded. "I'll show you."

Intrigued, Katrina followed Hikari across the living room where the aroma of food wafted from the kitchen. Hikari led her back through the foyer and into the elevator.

"Choose one," Hikari pointed to the lit up dials.

Katrina's hands shook. A couple dozen buttons; all of them were hers?

She pressed the one below the penthouse, and it took but a short warp for the doors to slid open, a foyer not dissimilar to the one above was laid out, and a butler opened the door.

"Afternoon, young misses," spoke the butler, and Katrina was floored.

"This one my cousin stayed in," Hikari spun around, as if in a candy shop. "His parents stayed in the one beneath it."

Katrina was agog: the place was not nearly as sumptuous as the penthouse, but her imagination went wild.

"So you have spare bedrooms - _apartments_ \- for your guests?" Katrina asked and Hikari nodded. "Were they all full?"

"Oh, no," Hikari shook her head. "It was only my cousin Leo and his parents; and my baby cousin Diablo and his parents; and my cousin Kylie and her parents."

"I haven't heard of any of them," Katrina drew herself up; these people who apparently were more important than the mayor or his family.

"Diablo lives out in Bridgeport in some gated community. We don't really talk about what his dad does, but his mom's trying to be a singer. She's not very good, but we don't say that to her face."

"And Kylie?"

"She's one of my favourite cousins. She lives in Bridgeport, too; but only cos her dad's a movie star. Her mom could easily afford loads of nannies, but she prefers raising them herself, though she's always tired."

"And Leo?" Katrina inquired.

"He just graduated from Sim State," Hikari told her. "His dad's in Business, and his mom's in the gardening club."

"So you're all related?" Katrina asked, and Hikari nodded.

"Come on," Hikari led. "Let's go see what's happening for dinner."

Katrina's thoughts were awhirl, even in the short time stuck in the spacious elevator. _One_ family, ruling Pleasantview? No wonder her mother was upset. By all accounts, Hikari's aunts and uncles were all rich: surely Hikari's mom had the _most_ money, owning an _entire_ skyscraper. But did it matter?

The point was, Katrina thudded as her heels clacked across the foyer and back into Hikari's living room, that she lived in some dump of a mayor's mansion and Hikari got _this_!

"Is dinner soon?" Hikari asked the butler.

"Not long to go, miss," the butler smiled affectionately.

"Come on," Hikari took Katrina's hand. "We can go for a dip."

"A dip?" Katrina was puzzled, as Hikari led her into an adjoining room.

Marble tiled with an adjacent bathroom, a jacuzzi built into the wall steamed and hissed with candles lit.

"No way," Katrina felt humbled in the evaporation of steam. "In an apartment?"

Hikari handed Katrina a spare pair of swimwear, and the girls changed and sunk into the spa with delight.

"The architects sent Mom's designs back saying it was impossible to have a hot tub on the top floor," Hikari giggled. "She had Dad go into their offices and he came back saying that each apartment underneath it had to be a bit smaller to accommodate the pipes all the way to the lobby."

Katrina drew a genuine smile across her face and laughed; it was so ridiculous.

"So does your mom do this a lot? She designs buildings?" Katrina relaxed.

"Not really," Hikari screwed up her face. "Like I told you, we lived in Champs Les Sims almost since I was born. Mom liked the lifestyle, but then when the skyscraper was completed we moved back here."

"Didn't she want to move to Bridgeport?" Katrina wondered. "I would, if I could build a skyscraper. I'd love to be a famous actress and hang around handsome models… "

"Mom likes her privacy," Hikari added. "Even our house in Champs Les Sims was on a hill."

Katrina was still reeling when she heard the lumping footsteps of Irvine.

"Hey, sweetheart," Irvine nodded. "Is your friend staying for dinner?"

"Would you like to?" Hikari turned to Katrina.

"Yes, please," Katrina belted out. "I'll call my mom."

Hikari showered and then so did Katrina, who changed into her clothes which suddenly seemed old. Katrina now knew how it felt to know someone richer, and it stung.

"Dinner is served," called the butler.

Hikari led Katrina into a dining room; a quiet, classical space with a bureau for wine and glass dining table and high backed chairs; through swinging doors was the smaller kitchen, where three chef's hats bobbed just out of view.

"I'll go get your mother," Irvine rose from the table.

"I've called for her, sir," the butler spoke.

"Yeah, but you know her; she never listens to anyone," Irvine shrugged with a smile, and headed out towards the study.

Katrina sat in silence as Hikari pulled the napkin out of its origami shape.

"What happens to those butlers?" Katrina blurted.

"Huh?" Hikari peered over.

"On the other apartments," Katrina stammered. "Do they live there?"

"Oh, no," Hikari shook her head. "Otherwise if a guest came, they'd have nowhere to stay."

"So where do they live?" Katrina repeated, feeling as if in a dream.

"Mmm," Hikari pondered. "I haven't given it much thought."

She glanced round to the butler.

"Where do the other butlers live on the other floors?" Hikari asked.

The butler directed his answer at Katrina. "They have servant quarters in every apartment."

This stunned Katrina. One blow after another; even the _butlers_ only had part of the apartment, the rest for guests, and how often did the cousins from Bridgeport visit?

"I hope it's lamb," came a voice, and Katrina turned round to see Irvine swaggering with a smile towards his seat, and an elegant blonde woman followed thereafter.

"Katrina, this is my mom, Clara," Hikari's face became tense. "Mom, this is my friend from school, Katrina Cartwright. You might know her mother; she's the wife of the mayor."

"Why would I?" Clara scowled, and glanced down to Katrina. "You're welcome to stay in one of the apartments, if you like."

"Oh, mom," Hikari reddened. "She can share with me."

"Nonsense," Clara sat at the head of the table with a little flourish; the butler brought in the food from the kitchen. "We haven't any room."


	4. Chapter 4

LYDIA

"Thank you for inviting me to lunch," Phillipa folded the napkin over her lap, and took a sip of water.

"Oh, it's nothing, dear," Lydia waved her away.

The cafe was but a small one in Pleasantview; seated at the best table, Lydia smiled at the passersby and to her well-heeled diners. The maitre'd was eager to impress, she could see.

More than that, Lydia was pleased to have scored an invitation with Phillipa. It was clear the thin thing had no friends if any, and her strained smile belied a need to open up. While most diners would have assumed Phillipa dressed like a school teacher, Lydia's smile curled that she had finagled Mrs Spencer to lunch, who only the insiders knew was the _real_ power behind Pleasantview.

Of course all this did not humble Lydia. It had come as a shock that after Garrett becoming mayor and she First Lady, that she still had to kowtow to a family more powerful than hers. It grated on her; especially that all anybody else saw was Lydia taking charity.

But Lydia had been used to it, during her and Garrett's power climb to the top; and it only enhanced her image, that to other people's eyes, she was taking pity on some middling doctor's wife to be sure.

"And how is having Leo back home, hmm?" Lydia raised an eyebrow.

"He's a good boy," Phillipa smiled.

"And do you know what career he wants to enter into?" Lydia asked, curious.

"He's just at home for now," Phillipa conceded. "There's no rush."

"Yes, yes," Lydia idled. "You know, my Katrina went to the Kinneas' home - if a skyscraper can be _called_ a home - it turns out they have each apartment for guests!"

"Yes," Phillipa nodded, wiping her lips. Lydia was poised, and her curiosity left unsated.

"It must be so much upkeep," Lydia shook her head. "Katrina said that Hikari's mother poo-pooed the idea of having the girls sleep together in the penthouse! For no space!"

"Oh, Clara's just protective," Phillipa's salad was largely untouched. "She likes things a certain way, like my husband."

"Yes," Lydia lingered, and received nothing further for her troubles. "Oh, I see Mr. Alto! Hello, Nick!"

Nick waved; the wife of her friend Vito, he was sitting at a table with some business associates.

"I must speak to Nick about my Alistair; he's just starting as a junior executive," Lydia tut-tutted. "Business is so hot these days! I did want Alistair to be a politician, but he's such a whiz with numbers, that boy."

"I'll talk to my husband," Phillipa nodded. "He hasn't mentioned anything about Alistair."

Lydia fumed. She suspected Phillipa's husband was at the top of the heap - with Alistair's skill, he could surely bump him off the top spot.

"If you'll excuse me," Phillipa rose, to visit the ladies.

"Oh, Nick," Lydia waved goodbye, as he and his business partners left their table. "Do say hello to Vita for me."

Lydia basked in the attention: not for vanity's sake, of course. But as First Lady, she received her share, and there were many interlopers who wanted to be invited to her home, to her dinners, to her parties; even if Lydia knew that she was not _truly_ the queen of society; Phillipa Spencer might be discreet, but Clara Kinneas in her skyscraper was truly a fixation of wonder, and from all talk, refused all friendly invitations.

Phillipa came back to her seat; yet her hands shook, her face red, and strong cologne permeated.

"Phillipa?" Lydia frowned. "What on earth's the matter?"

"I must go," Phillipa's hands shook. "Could I please ask you to pay; I must go at once… "

"Of course," Lydia steadied, so intrigued. "We must catch up soon!"

Lydia signaled for the waiter, irritated that she had not been able to ask Phillipa's husband to check on Alistair for her.

LEO

Leo's bedroom was adrift in paper; sometimes he wrote, sometimes he drew. Pencil canvasses and an easel stood behind a window overlooking the lawn. Books lay partly read on his bed, an embroidery set with the thread looped from behind with a half-finished dog, and sculpting tools upon a little table, and a basin of cool water.

His parents left him to his own devices, more out of supporting his creative vices than ignoring him, he knew; it was to his surprise he had not been so precocious, for they had babied him in some ways yet told him the world was his.

And yet, for some parents Leo would have disappointed in that he did not want to storm through the Business world, talk on a Pulpit as a politician, or learn the ways of the world as a Scientist. Yet Leo knew his family did not lack for funds, and so his parents gave him time and space to unearth what he wanted to do. He dipped the paintbrush and cast another stroke, and heard what had been in the back of his mind a slow murmuring growing louder.

He washed his hands in the ensuite and toiled downstairs, where maids were silent and the butler always at attention. He looked out to the backyard, where in a tall tree a treehouse he had always known and loved was still out there, and a garden kept meticulous by his mother even though the gardeners toiled to keep it perfect when she was having a lie down or fussing in the kitchen.

The staff had always loved his mother's soft handed, kind approach; and they were paid very well by his father to keep the household as silently efficient as a machine. They could not called afraid of their employer; but he _was_ humourless and sober, and they would not opt to have a few beers after their shift with such a man.

Leo walked into the foyer, and heard the chatter through the archway to the right; past his father's study, he heard only the end of the conversation.

" - I'll handle it," came his father's voice, abrupt and bold, who strode out from the living room, and alighted with some surprise on his son.

"Dad?" Leo came out on a squeak "Are you and mum fighting?"

"No," his father replied, with a concerned look in his eyes. "Everything is fine. It will be."

Leo entered the living room, where his mother glanced up, wiping her tears.

"Mom," Leo said with some shock. "Is - it is dad?"

"No, no," Phillipa shook her head, not mollified. "Come sit down and have some tea."

"I can't," Leo reached out. "Please, tell me what's wrong."

"Your father's sorting it," Phillipa sniffed. "But I do have some good news. You and I will be taking a trip to Champs Les Sims, for a little while."

"But what about dad?" Leo alerted. "Are you - "

"No, he just has to work," Phillipa put her hand on Leo's. "Please, don't worry."

"But Dad doesn't work," Leo frowned. "He talks into a phone for an hour every day and potters around the house."

"Well, he has to work shortly," Phillipa nodded herself solemn, resolved. "Come on. We'll take walks by the river, and have some croissants. It'll be a post-graduation present."

KATRINA

"Thank you for having me at your house," Hikari raised her eyebrows, and smiled as Katrina led her out of the sedan which had chauffeured her home.

"It's no problem," Katrina said breezily, who had no choice but to return the offer; while she would much prefer to go to Hikari's skyscraper home; this was her turf, and some semblance of nostalgia propelled her to take the lead, which she enjoyed.

Katrina had loved staying at Hikari's place; after dinner, she had stayed on the twentieth floor, halfway between soaring heights and shuddering normalcy on the ground floor, and each apartment was designed differently, with this one in shades of lilac with a softer style of furnishings and lavender candles around the bath.

And so Katrina led Hikari into her home, where the maids were vacuuming and the butler greeted them, and they had sundaes sitting opposite each other on the glass dining table, while the grandfather clock ticked sedately.

"Where is everyone?" Hikari hushed.

Katrina glanced up to the butler, who stepped forward. "Mr Cartwright is at work and Mrs Cartwright is out at a charity function. Mr Alistair is staying late at work, and the twins are still out, I'm afraid."

"They always are," Katrina rolled her eyes.

"How do they get away with it?" Hikari asked. "Staying out and partying?"

"Well, my mom only has two eyes," Katrina shrugged. "It used to be a problem at the start of their campaign. But while it's not stylish or cool, they're not breaking any laws; and it keeps the peace for them to have fun with friends."

"That's cool," Hikari dug her spoon into her sundae. "I wish I could be them."

Katrina chuckled. "You can't be serious. Hikari, your life is perfect!"

If Katrina was Hikari, she dreamed: she would stay in a different apartment each night; she would chill out in the hot tub; she would wrap Irvine around her finger; although the stick in the mud was Mrs Kinneas, who seemed fit to be the sun around which other stars circled.

"Not really," Hikari slumped. "You've seen my mom."

It was hard to work Hikari's mother out, Katrina figured. She was almost regal, with her daughter inheriting her looks, and took it for granted that her every whim would be granted, as though it had been born to her, rather than a diva demanding her skittles sorted by color.

Katrina could quite easily dream being Clara, too: wealthy beyond count, with a roguishly handsome husband picked off the streets (if one could overlook his humble beginnings), and a daughter who she could shape in her image.

"Well… " Katrina admitted. "I sort of envy her. I mean, she gets to call the shots in her life."

"Yes," Hikari said bitterly. "And everyone has to fall in line. Even my uncle Adam, he'll jump to help my mom."

For all that Katrina had heard from her mother about the older Mr Spencer, who had the mayor's ear and more, the idea that even _he_ was beholden to her was something.

"Why?" Katrina begged, fascinated with the idea.

"Well, mom's the oldest," Hikari considered. "But only my uncle Adam is the one who works, if any of them do."

"So he controls it?" Katrina could not help her growing glee; her insider knowledge. "All the money?"

"I dunno," Hikari almost tensed at this intrusion, and Katrina knew to pull back.

"Sorry," Katrina apologised.

"It's OK, I guess," Hikari sniffed. "I mean, I can't expect you not to be as curious as anyone else. The truth is I don't know."

Katrina lolled and nodded and said nothing. Hikari dangled her spoon into the empty glass.

"Come on," Katrina leapt, an idea. "I'll show you how construction's coming along. Of course, it's probably boring compared to your skyscraper… "

Katrina led Hikari outside, where the three-storied rec room was about complete.

"The first floor's going to be an audio room, to help Alexandra record a single or Conrad play the drums. The second floor's going to have sofas and a pool table and a bartender with a bar making drinks. The third floor's going to have a hot tub overlooking Pleasantview, with some changing rooms. I know what you're thinking: why would my mom, the height of prim and proper allow all of this? She knows it's safer to keep her twins close, rather than out _there_."

Hikari tensed, and Katrina wondered if the mention brought her back to how controlling Mrs Kinneas could apparently be. She blithely continued the tour as though she noticed nothing.

"And the helipad is built, of course. But what my mom didn't figure is City Hall doesn't have a helipad, so there's no point buying a helicopter, though we can afford one by now, I'm sure."

"Helicopter sounds cool," Hikari nodded. "My uncle Max took me on his when I was younger."

"And this," Katrina continued, envy leaping in her chest. "Is the pool, almost finished where a little sauna and changing room will be built. There'll be a second storey where a ballet rail will be added. My mum wouldn't dare go to a public gym."

"My uncle Max's wife used to be a jazzercise instructor," Hikari giggled. "That's how they met."

"Really?" Katrina said vaguely, hoping to pry more.

"After they married, she would rent out the whole gym for her workouts," Hikari continued. "Of course the locals didn't like that, so she had uncle Max buy her the building and all the members had to find somewhere else to grunt."

Agog, Katrina could not help but want to hear more, but Hikari was walking along the shrubbery of white roses and red tulips, and there was no avenue to prod her further.

"Oh, the good thing is, though," Hikari's cheeks coloured. "My aunt Grace is moving to Pleasantview."

"Really?" Katrina stirred. "She's the one married to a movie star, right?"

"Yes," Hikari nodded. "My aunt's finally convinced him to retire and settle down. He'll be home more so they can raise their little girl more."

"Will they be moving into the skyscraper?" Katrina gave a little laugh.

"Oh no," Hikari shook her head. "My mom likes her privacy, you know. I don't know where, actually… but it'll be cool to see Kylie. She's only six or seven, but she's the sweetest kid. You want to hear a story?"

"Of course," Katrina joined Hikari sitting on the grass out front, her clothes slightly damp, just to hear more about this crazy rich family.

"Well, of course uncle Johnny lives in a gated community in Bridgeport, so he says to my aunt why doesn't she have a word with her brother; he'll get Kylie into private school with a snap. But of course my aunt wants Kylie to grow up normal, even though she was born in the limelight."

"Uh huh," Katrina wished she was married to an actor, or daughter of one. What a bright life! "Go on."

"So my aunt calls the headmaster of private school round for dinner, and Johnny's out filming so it's just my aunt and Kylie. And my aunt insisted on cooking turkey, but the oven burst into fire and the fire department had to come!"

"No way!" Katrina burst out into laughter. "But what happened?"

"Well, the headmaster, soot black and coughing had to quickly excuse himself. And of course, my aunt thought she had ruined her luck and told uncle Max all this and of course that's why all the family knows about it."

"Yes, yes," Katrina nodded. What a fool woman; so rich, and she _wants_ to be normal?

"And anyway, when the post arrives, my aunt opens it and she's accepted! Uncle Johnny said it gave him an idea to do a stunt involving fire. And so Kylie got into private school, even though my aunt singed off his eyebrows."

Katrina remembered when her father was still a congressperson, and how her mother had toiled to make their old house perfectly stunning for the headmaster. She had got the knack of it with Alistair, and the twins had tried to torpedo her chances so she had to arrange a follow up dinner, and how Lydia had glowed when the headmaster, replete from the chef's lobster thermidor and impressed with her clean home, had given her the nod of approval for Katrina's education.

And yet here was this aunt Grace, living in a mansion in Bridgeport, almost burning her house down and she got in on name recognition alone!

"Hikari, it sounds like quite a family," Katrina sighed.

"Well yours is pretty cool," Hikari raised her eyebrows. "I mean, you and your mom have so much in common. You get to go shopping and manicures and I mean, you live in a normal _house_. I miss finding the hidden passageways and running around the hedge maze with my dad back home in Champs Les Sims."

Katrina frowned; what house had a maze? But she alighted on Hikari's first point.

"Yeah, my mom's cool, I guess," Katrina picked at the grass in tufts, and could hear one of the gardeners sigh, knowing they'd be rebuked by the butler or her mother. "She's a busybody, really. I love her, but - "

"You can't want my mom instead," Hikari shook her head. "I'd gladly switch."

Katrina felt the cool breeze give her goosebumps. For all she loved her mom, for all they had in common; she _had_ viewed her as the means with which she might rise to a life of fame one day. She was loving to her mother, but always eyed the horizon than her perfumed embrace.

"Well," Katrina shuffled.

"I mean," Hikari continued. "My mom doesn't let me go anywhere. I stay in that skyscraper after school, and I have no friends other than you. My dad told her that some boys were eyeing me after school and she freaked… "

"Why?" Katrina took Hikari's hand. "I mean, I get guys looking at me too. But they're too scared of my dad to do anything."

"You don't know," Hikari said bitterly. "My mom tells me guys will just date you once and drop you. Although that's the biggest irony."

"Why?" Katrina could practically smell the sundae on Hikari's breath.

"My dad used to be a ladies man before he married my mom," Hikari shrugged, picking at tufts of grass. "I think my mom likes that she 'tamed' my dad, though he smirks and flirts in that casual way men do."

"Do you think - " Katrina paused.

"No," Hikari shook her head. "I mean, I have the best relationship with my dad. And while I wouldn't blame him if he did; he'd be stupid to cheat on my mom. He'd break up our family and besides, he doesn't have to work because of her."

Katrina softened. For all the privileges Hikari had - and there were many - it seemed Hikari's mother was the main stick in the mud which could not be lifted. And yet even if Hikari was just raised by her dad, she would surely have a freer life; yet only her mom's money made it possible to live such a privileged life, yet trapped in a glittering cage.

_She's probably thought about it_ , Katrina watched Hikari glance out to the garage on the left side of the house, with a little room atop where Conrad or Alexandra invited friends. _She would probably even risk being poor and a nobody just to be free._

Katrina felt revolted at how she had first approached her friendship with Hikari, and guilty that she had pursued her with malice and social ascendance in mind. She lay a hand atop Hikari's who glanced round in surprise.

"You know, if you ever need to talk, I'm here," Katrina smiled, as guileless as when she had made her first trusting approach in grade school, before she had known how two-faced some girls could be; before she had developed the thick skin; before she could name drop her dad's position in Pleasantview. "I don't know about crazy wealth… but it doesn't sound like all it's cracked up to be, to be honest."


	5. Chapter 5

LYDIA

Lydia had been consumed with curiosity since Phillipa Spencer's sudden departure at the cafe; and rather than call which would have been the polite thing to do, she decided to go down in chauffeured car to the Spencer's home, on the pretext of popping by since the Altos lived nearby.

Of course, Lydia would never just drop by the Altos' home; it was garish, with leopard print furniture and obscene busts and bright colours; but Phillipa would not know this, and so Lydia watched through the tinted windows as forestry flew by, and her manicured hands clutching her purse as her chauffeur pulled into the Spencer's drive.

The butler was there to receive her on the portico, and Lydia alighted with all the grace of a queen. Her heels crunched on the gravel driveway as she stepped up to the front door.

"Mrs. Cartwright, to see Mrs. Spencer," she sniffed.

"I'm afraid Mrs. Spencer and her son are out of town," the butler apologised.

"Oh," Lydia was taken aback. Her sudden arrival suddenly seemed more circumspect. "Well you see, I was just popping in from the Altos. I thought I'd say hello."

The butler frowned, but held himself back from reply. "If you'd like to come in, I can give Mrs Spencer a call."

Lydia was led into the home, and while she was aware of the effect the Spencers had on her husband, she still did not envy this family, with their discretion and their old-money furnishings. She did not envy the house, but she did their money and their reach.

"Mrs. Cartwright, I'll serve tea in the living room," the butler headed into the kitchen. "Please make yourself comfortable."

Lydia instead took the stairs, too consumed with curiosity. If caught, she would merely say she was looking for the bathroom; and if the butler cottoned on that she had known where it was the first night she came here, she would draw him up with a blank stare and find some way to have him fired.

She turned right at the staircase and peeked into the son's bedroom. It was in a state of disorder; apparently Leo's absence did not compel the maids to clean up. They had made the bed and the smell of cleaning product lingered in the bathroom, but mostly the detritus of creative outlet remained.

"Shocking," Lydia mumbled to herself, and headed back down the corridor, at the other end.

Here, she peeked inside an enormous ensuite in which a spa bath was in the centre. The bathroom was immaculate and white, blue towels with gold fleur de lis, and yet despite this, Lydia wondered why Phillipa could never quite unwind that manic smile that harried her features.

 _It's that husband of hers_ , Lydia consoled herself. _So stiff!_

Lydia took a wary step and a furtive glance over her shoulder as she opened the door to the master bedroom. Inside, the canopied bed took precedence with an antique chest of drawers and a single yellow rose in a vase overlooking the front yard, but there was little to be noted. She hardly expected to find a safe with all the Spencers' money inside.

With trepidation, she closed the door behind her, and was halfway down the main staircase when the butler, emerging from the living room, caught sight of her with an immaculately raised eyebrow.

"Can I be of some assistance, Mrs Cartwright?" his voice was cold.

"Oh, yes," Lydia huffed. "I must tell you, I've returned an earring that Phillipa dropped when she left so suddenly at the cafe. I hope you don't mind; I've returned it."

"Of course," the butler remained unconvinced, but would only tarnish his profession to inquire further; even for the family he served, he could hardly interrogate the mayor's wife. "I must warn you, the tea is getting cold, ma'am."

Lydia hurried into the living room, and with shaking hands sipped her tea, and the butler noticed and dialed and muttered some words and handed her the phone.

"Thank you," Lydia added imperiously, to hide the quaver in her voice. "Phillipa?"

"Lydia," Phillipa replied. "I'm so sorry I'm not home to receive you."

"Oh, it's fine," Lydia shook some lint off her dress, and noticed with some irritation the butler lingering nearby to dust a vase. "I'm sitting in your living room and your butler makes a _wonderful_ cup of tea."

"I'm glad," Phillipa admitted. "Is my husband there?"

"Why, no," Lydia glanced to the butler, who shook his head. "Er, I'm afraid I don't know."

"He's probably working," Phillipa was quick to say.

"Does he have an office in town?" Lydia queried. "Garrett mentioned he had a secretary."

"Oh, Jane, yes," Phillipa affirmed. "He usually conducts business at home from his laptop."

"Well, he must be a busy man, as busy as my Garrett," Lydia tittered. "You know the life, of course. The woman behind the man. We rein them in."

Lydia wondered how best to broach Phillipa's sudden departure from the cafe the other day, but she was bested:

"I must go, I'm afraid," Phillipa blurted. "My Leo's booked us in to a cooking class to learn how to make bouillabaisse."

"Of course," Lydia was appalled. "Well, I'll leave you to it."

Lydia hung up the phone, and finished her tea which was now cold. In the living room, she glanced out to the backyard where a treehouse and a well kept garden was splayed.

Lydia headed towards the foyer and glanced momentarily into the study, and saw a laptop resting on the desk.

Dare she?

Her fingers itched; not only for lack of know-how of how to operate the modern conveniences, but that if she was caught, surely the butler would call Mr Spencer. But oh, how she longed to see the bank statement; all those Simoleons!

The butler fetched her coat as Lydia slipped it on in the foyer.

"Thank you for having me," Lydia decided to throw the butler a bone. "It was very good to catch up with Phillipa, even abroad."

"Do have a safe drive, Mrs. Cartwright," the butler suggested. "I took the liberty of asking one of the maids to deliver your chauffeur of a sandwich."

"Oh, yes," Lydia scratched at her pearls. "Er, thank you."

"If I may be so bold to inquire, ma'am," the butler furthered his step, and Lydia had the uncomfortable feeling of a bear stuck in a trap. "How are the Altos?"

"The Altos?" Lydia blinked.

"You mentioned seeing them before your visit here, ma'am." the butler reminded.

"Oh, yes," Lydia gave a little laugh. "Yes, they're good."

The butler frowned a little, and thought a little on this. "If you wouldn't mind, ma'am."

Lydia watched as the butler produced a stack of mail.

"These arrived erroneously at Mr Spencer's home; it seems the new mail man couldn't find the Altos," the butler had a little smile. "Would you be so kind as to drop them by on your way home?"

Usually Lydia would have drawn up the butler with an icy stare for such an affront; she was no serviceman summoned to fix the pipes in a leaky apartment! Yet the butler's eyes drew her, and it was no suspicion to simply deliver the mail. Perhaps the butler meant to trick her into admitting there _had_ been no visit to the Altos; yet why send her on such an errand for what would in the end only be a faux pas? Perhaps this was the type of joke butlers regularly employed to make others feel inferior.

"O-of course," Lydia took the mail, and couldn't help reading Vita Alto's name underneath the stamped logo of the credit card company. "Yes, that should do."

Glad to depart with her dignity, above suspicion and in the backseat of her air conditioned sedan, she lowered the partition.

"To the Altos, please," Lydia felt tied to the service people recently, and glanced out the window, the mail heavy in her hands.

Perhaps she could ask Vita if _her_ butler had some gossip on the Spencer's butler; such disrespect! Service people could get so above their station, Lydia fumed.

The car pulled up to the Altos' home, big and spacious with large windows looking out, and Lydia alighted from the back seat with the help of the chauffeur, whose breath stunk of onion sandwich. She saw an unfamiliar Margaret Vaguester parked in the drive, and tutted at the extravagance of the new-money Vitos.

She made to pop the letterbox open but a sheaf of mail fell out, and as she scrambled to pick it up, she froze at the name on the front and turned to the mansion once more.

Lydia took a hurried stride up to the front door, which was ajar. "Er, hello?"

Footsteps came quick on the parquet flooring; a woman slightly younger than her with chestnut hair, worry lines in her forehead and a genuine smile broke across her face. The woman had tied her sweatshirt around the waist of her jeans.

"Hi, I'm Grace," the woman extended her hand, and saw the bulk of mail in Lydia's hands. "Oh, thank you. I've only just moved in."

Lydia watched, stunned, as Grace grappled with the deluge of post; amidst the carnage, the Altos' mail stuck out.

"I should find their forwarding address," Grace frowned. "Sorry, I never asked your name?"

"Lydia Cartwright," she was suddenly too tired to draw herself up. Grace merely blinked at the name.

"Oh yes, the mayor's wife," Grace smiled happily. "I've seen you on TV. Please, come in!"

Lydia wandered in, feeling a sense of unease. The theme was very much gilt, white and black; shag carpeting, abstract paintings with paint splashes, minimalist kitchen counters with bar stools in black.

The high ceilings in the living room looked down upon a reasonably wide screen TV where a girl no older than six or seven lay on her stomach on the floor, kicking her legs in the air as a children's show played.

"I know I probably should, but I don't have any staff," Grace shrugged helplessly. "My husband Johnny says he likes my cooking, but I know he's just saying that."

Lydia felt the tension building in her forehead. "Do you mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Of course," Grace smiled, with not an ounce of pretension. "We don't use the downstairs one until the spa bath's been fitted, but you can use the one in my room."

Lydia thought this was both a perfect avenue and an entirely too trusting assessment to make of a stranger; yet she could see the woman was quite naive if nothing other than to note that she chose _not_ to employ household help.

"Thank you," Lydia made do with a short reply, and jumped when the little girl in the living room laughed as the colours lit up the screen.

Upstairs, the tone was very muted, with vases of flowers and rather like a chic hotel corridor. She passed by what she assumed was the little girl's room: pink and purple, with a single bed and creative outlets and homework messily arrayed.

Lydia sniffed and continued into the master bedroom, feeling as though she might very well warrant a job in the Criminal career the way she was going. The bed had crumpled white fleur de lis sheets, the ensuite a collection of messily tidied products around the sink. It was a woman's touch, one unfettered by what must be a male's attempts not to mess any of it up for his wife.

Lydia glanced out a window to where her chauffeur was talking on his cell phone, and filched her own out of her handbag, hating the thing, and dialed Vita's number as the ringing was shortly cut out as the operator informed her the number was no longer in service.

Of course! Lydia despaired. She tried Vita's _cell_ number, but got the same response.

She felt cold all over. How on earth could Vita move so suddenly? Not that she truly cared; but Vita was a valuable ally for gossip, and Bella was too quiet a companion.

Lydia was still in the midst of her thoughts, and had Grace not been so engrossed in mixing a bowl of batter by hand, the splatters on her clothes unnoticed; Grace might have realised Lydia's hands were too dry to have come from the bathroom.

"I'm having a housewarming you should come to," Grace brightened. "It's just a small gathering; I'd invite more people but I don't really know anyone!"

"Oh, yes," Lydia furrowed her brow. "This is - well, the house looks lovely."

"Thanks," Grace had spots of colour on her cheeks. "I mainly copy my sister's style. I asked her to help but she said she was busy… "

"Er, my friends the Altos had quite a different style," Lydia revved her engine; almost sorry that she had to interrogate such an unwitting target. "I'm _so_ glad you've changed everything, it looks splendid. But do you know where I might give them their mail?"

"I don't sorry," Grace looked genuinely remorseful. "It's all been such a blur; when my brother said the property would be available now, I got my husband to organise the movers… "

Lydia felt a sudden need to go home and confide in Garrett. This was surreal.

"If you'll excuse me," Lydia took her leave, of the little girl's TV show and Grace asking her very meekly to turn the volume down, and headed out to her car, where her chauffeur hastened to hold the back door open in time.


	6. Chapter 6

GARRETT

"It is odd," Garrett agreed, as he sat on the edge of the bed, buttoning into his pyjamas.

"I say," Lydia sat at her bureau, picking up a hairbrush, wrapped in a robe, her face bare of makeup. "I cannot make heads nor tails of it. At least she's invited us to the house warming; I'll find out more there."

"I thought you said you didn't like the Altos?" Garrett yawned, his eyes were red, and head pounding from a long day.

As the incumbent mayor, it was on his head to take the flak now that the Kinneas' skyscraper stood almost as a slap in the face to those seeking housing; it had only just come out in the press that the skyscraper was _private_ housing by _one_ family.

"Oh, they're tolerable enough," Lydia could spare some sentiment now that their absence left a hole in who she might confide in. Getting to the top required a lacquer and sheen; but every social climber imagines a sense of relief after getting what they want. Yet paramount upon her shoulders was simply to _maintain_ the facade, and truly she wondered if it was all worth it if she couldn't be herself; whoever that once was.

"Did she invite just you, or the whole family?" Garrett tucked some pillows behind his head.

"Well, I think she can be presumed upon to invite us all," Lydia rubbed cream over her hands from a little tube she set precisely next to her perfume. "She seemed as weak willed as Phillipa Spencer, if with a bit more of a spark. The husband's an actor, I gather."

"I think it best if Conrad and Alexandra stay home," Garrett watched his wife traipse across to join him in bed, still stuck in her thoughts. "You know they love to cause mischief."

"Yes," Lydia nodded. "And I'll have to buy Alistair a new suit."

"Oh, don't bother the boy," Garrett shared a warm smile. "He'll be wanting to go out with his work colleagues for dinner. Katrina will love it, though."

"She's becoming close with Clara Kinneas' daughter," Lydia pondered. "Katrina actually seems to like the girl."

"She is your daughter through and through," Garrett offered as a tribute with raised eyebrows, and received a chaste peck on the lips for his trouble.

KATRINA

Katrina came downstairs the next morning, joining her mom at the dinner table. The butler served them pancakes and orange juice, and mother and daughter sipped quietly.

"Is Dad already in the office?" Katrina asked her mother.

"You know him, an early riser," her mother smiled.

Katrina looked to the head of the table. "You know, I almost miss him."

"Why?" her mother piqued. "He was always in early even while you were growing up."

"Well… " Katrina lingered. "Don't you miss him?"

"Hmm?" her mother paused with the fork halfway to her mouth. "That's the nature of the job, Katrina. To make money, he has to be in early to make deals."

"That wasn't my question, mom." Katrina pointed out.

Her mother paused, and considered the matter; and considered Katrina. Always they had been a duo of light banter, of shopping and jewellery and facials. And yet…

"Well, I suppose I do, from time, to time," her mother sniffed. "Do you?"

"Yes," Katrina said quietly.

"What's got into you?" her mother asked over her glass of juice.

"I think it's being around Hikari, mom," Katrina admitted. "She has the best relationship with her dad, but not with her mom."

"Well, you know your father loves you," Lydia said idly. "He has to work. Otherwise where else would we be?"

"I think we'd be happier," Katrina ventured, and there began the shattering of the glass: for all her hope of fame, the warmth of family burned bright in her stomach, helped her stay erect in the toughest of times. "I wouldn't mind even if he retired early."

Her mother seemed to consider this; to weigh up that the climb for which they had foisted nannies on their children, spent late nights discussing the campaign, spent money on ordeals meant to impress a public who, with this skyscraper scandal, were not at all appeased by a family whose only worth in the mayor's residence was to shine and not lift a finger to fix the situation. She had been a confidant to her husband for so long.

"It's too late, in any case," Lydia resolved and fixed Katrina with a stare. "Your father has a duty to the people. He took up the mantle, and to discard it wouldn't be worth the shame."

"The shame of how you'd look to your friends?" Katrina raised an eyebrow, and her mother frowned.

"Worse than that," the words fell out of Lydia's mouth, before she could catch them. "A personal failure. How does one stand straight knowing you've betrayed yourself?"

Katrina intermingled her hands in her lap. She knew at that point her fashion was for show: it had earned her her peers' attention, but only so long as she continued to do so. And she knew that if she did not stop this repetitive need to align herself to her peers' expectations, she could not also expect the seeds of inner change to grow, either.

"We must soldier on," her mother blurted, as though sensing unwillingness on Katrina's part. "We've been invited to a house warming at the Altos' old home."

"Why did they move?" Katrina was still shook in her quiet self determination.

"That, my daughter, is what I mean to find out," Lydia nodded as the butler took her plate away. Katrina's was largely uneaten. "You'll want to go shopping, I'm sure."

"Yeah," Katrina pictured the mannequins and racks of clothing and wondered if Hikari might want to come. "Who's it for?"

"Hmm?" Lydia queried.

"The housewarming," Katrina replied. "Do we know these people?"

"I gather the husband is a movie star," Lydia tittered. "I caught her name on their mail. Mrs Grace Knoxville?"

"Oh," Hikari's face flooded recognition. "Mom, Hikari mentioned her aunt and uncle are moving here from Bridgeport."

"No," Lydia repeated. " _She's_ Mr Spencer's other sister?"

"Yes," Katrina replied.

"But she was so - so - " Lydia floundered for words. "She was so _casual_. She had no staff!"

"Well, mom," Katrina replied, stung. "From what Hikari told me, her aunt's trying to live a ordinary life despite her family's wealth. And from what I've heard from you about Mr Spencer and Mrs Kinneas, she sounds like the _normal_ one in the family."

LYDIA

Lydia was excited; at last, here was her entry into _true_ society. She had been upset not to be invited to Mrs Kinneas' housewarming at the skyscraper; yet even driving into the backwoods, Lydia could feel proud that _she_ knew and her family knew that this was the one prized invite above all.

The limo wound up the lane, with the chauffeur driving and her husband and daughter joining her in the back. The car pulled up in front of what was now the _Knoxville_ home, and the chauffeur alighted to let out his passengers.

In the open garage, Mrs Knoxville's Margaret Vaguester was parked beside a Montalcino. Parked on the road was a racing-yellow Velocity and a pink Extravagator 5000.

"I thought there'd be more," Lydia idled near the extravagant vehicles.

She led the way up to the porch, where the door was ajar. Her heels clicked on the parquet floor as her husband and daughter followed and she caught sight of a snazzy man with sunglasses in conversation with Grace Knoxville; and a couple dancing to the stereo, the man goosing the woman who threw her head back with laughter.

"Oh, they're here!" Grace hurried over. "Johnny - come meet them!"

Johnny was tall and strutting yet without arrogance; he promptly shook Garrett's hand and was from all accounts genuinely normal, although he had the sheen of star power.

"This is my husband Johnny," Grace smiled up at him, clearly dependent, but he wrapped a loving arm around her.

"Mr Mayor. _Mrs_ Mayor," Johnny winked at Lydia and a nervous giggle escaped her lips. He turned to Katrina. "And the next leading lady, I'll bet!"

"I hope so," Katrina gushed, and Lydia frowned.

"Come, come," Johnny ushered them forth, but a voice from upstairs broke his lead. "Hon, I'll run up and check on Kylie. Could you - "?

"Yes, yes," Grace hurried to take her husband's place. "Please, come meet my other guests."

Lydia glanced at her husband and daughter who were led towards the other couple.

"This is my brother Max and his wife Maria," Grace glowed. "They have a baby boy Diablo; but he had to stay in Bridgeport with the nanny."

Max's face was mold for a smirk with cunning eyes which peered out. He wore a hoodie and jeans. His wife Maria, was a vivacious red head with an accent and a laugh that sounded like Vita's.

"I've never met a mayor before," Maria lit up. She turned to Katrina. "You're adorable in that gown! I must know where you bought it from."

Lydia turned to Grace. "Where are your other siblings?"

"Oh, Clara couldn't come," Grace said sadly. "She was busy. And Adam flew out to Champs Les Sims to join Phillipa and Leo."

"Oh, yes," Lydia scratched at her pearls. She was hoping to meet Mrs Kinneas.

"I made brownies," Grace waved her over to a tray, and Lydia almost choked on how fudgey they are. "I don't usually cook; I usually order takeout or something."

KATRINA

Katrina stood to one side with Maria; curvaceous, busty and confident. Her mother was following Grace around the house tour, and Garrett was nodding along to Johnny's descriptions of the stunts shown on his films.

"I can tell you want to be a superstar," Maria smiled, gripping Katrina's arm. "You must stay, sometime."

"In Bridgeport?" Katrina broke a smile. The glamour and glitz intoxicated her. "I'd love to!"

"Oh, yes," Maria nodded approvingly. "Max's out most nights, so it's only me and Diablo; and when the nannies have put him to sleep, what else is a girl to do?"

"Do you see many celebrities?" Katrina beckoned.

"Occasionally," Maria gave a yawn. "Max used to live in the city, then when we married he bought Matthew Hammond's place."

"The actor?" Katrina was star struck. "I love him!"

"But he didn't like that one, it wasn't big enough," Maria sniffed. "So he bought the place where those Big Blings used to live."

Katrina and Maria glanced over to where Max stuffed his face with brownies.

"I said to Max, if Clara can build a skyscraper, why can't we?" Maria pouted. "But he said he didn't want to live in Pleasantview. So we're settling in Bridgeport, for now."

Katrina felt that Maria came from humble beginnings and wanted to name-drop, and the thought sickened Katrina that the two were alike.

"Have you been to Villa Paradiso?" Maria turned to Katrina.

"Um, yeah," Katrina nodded. "But when we arrived it was bad weather, so we didn't stay very long."

"It is amazing in the sunshine," Maria gloried. "My Max had a houseboat there, but he drove me crazy on that water scooting thing all day. I stomped over to the hotel and booked the whole place out. He was searching everywhere!"

"No way," Katrina dampened. She just could not compete with the level of wealth.

"He built a holiday home so I wouldn't go wandering," Maria laughed. "But when we arrived on helicopter, we realised we hadn't put a landing pad in. Max had to rappel down and organise scuba divers in case I drowned."

"That's… something," Katrina said faintly. "Excuse me, won't you?"

GARRETT

"You must be bored stiff," Max wandered his way over, his eyes missing nothing.

"It's more for the ladies," Garrett popped a brownie in his mouth, feeling his gums stick together. "Tell me something. Do you work in the family business with Adam, too?"

"Nah," Max shook his head. "He picked that job up as a side hustle."

"So it's not a family business?" Garrett frowned. "What does he really do, then?"

"I dunno, reads and shit," Max shrugged.

"And what about you?" Garrett piqued. "You're a celebrity in Bridgeport?"

"Nah," Max leaned in with a smirk, in the hushed silence. "I'm the Emperor of Evil."

Maria let out a tinkling laugh, and Grace a nervous giggle, and Johnny his patented psycho laugh; and Garrett tensed and muttered a polite excuse, caught his wife's shocked look and his daughter's glum face, and realised they were but middle-class yet again.

"Cheer up," Max slapped Garrett on the back, once the merriment had died down. "It's only a housewarming. I'd die before moving to Pleasantview!"

"Can I ask you something else," Garrett leaned in, and Max did too. "Nick Alto is a friend of mine - "

"No he isn't," Max cut through the bullshit, and Garrett's mask slipped for a moment. "He felt up Phillipa at some restaurant, you know that?"

"No," Garrett stilled, and felt his wife's eyes on the eve of eavesdropping. "I never knew. Is that why she went to Champs Les Sims?"

"Probably," Max shrugged. "But you know, he couldn't hang round after that."

"Are you saying - " Garrett paused. "This house - "

"This house was on the market, my friend," Max grinned amiably.

"But where are they now? The Altos?" Garrett whispered.

"Who knows," Max shrugged. "But you won't hear from them ever again."

LYDIA

Lydia sat silently in the back with her husband and daughter, both silent, and raised the partition for privacy.

"You think something happened to them, Garrett?" Lydia had longed to broach the subject.

"I think he means what he says," Garrett blurted. "He must be a criminal. Adam has his hand in every business deal and investment; Max can work the underworld."

"But that's preposterous," Lydia burst. "It would mean you could do nothing as mayor."

"That has been my growing realisation," Garrett admitted. "It's not only that they're masters in their field. It's that they have such large amounts of money to throw at any problem."

"And Maria," Katrina remarked. "She married into their family; she used to be just an aerobics instructor. Now she rules Bridgeport; she buys homes and buildings like candy!"

"Even the silly little Grace Knoxville," Lydia shook her head. "She could keep Johnny very well kept. Does she even know what she has?"

"It's more than that," Garrett pondered. "Nobody hears from the Landgraabs anymore. The Altos are toast. What if we get on the wrong side of them? What happens to us?"

"They wouldn't," Katrina shook. "I'm good friends with Hikari."

"You're the mayor," Lydia pointed out. "That has to count for something."

"Perhaps I'm their puppet," Garrett spread his hands as the limo jerked round a corner. "And they're humouring us with their little parties - "

"Humouring?" Lydia drew herself up. "No. I won't have it."

"We can't do anything, Lydia," Garrett spread his hands.

"He's a criminal! The younger Mr Spencer at least," Lydia nodded enthusiastically. "You can take him down, and hold the _older_ Mr Spencer to ransom!"

"It's not that easy," Garrett shook his head. "I'm just a figurehead. If the Spencers can evict residents of a home without trace, what else are they capable of?"

"I won't stand for it," Lydia shook her head. "This isn't just about our rise to power meaning nothing. This isn't about their flaunting themselves in front of us. Whatever they're doing, it's _wrong_. And we must bring their crimes to light."

"How?" Garrett persisted. "When my predecessor sat on his hands and did nothing, too?"

"I got an invite," Katrina spoke up, and eyes fell on her. "Maria said I should come to her mansion in Bridgeport."

"Why?" Lydia peered. "You're in high school. What could a grown woman want with your company?"

"I think she likes showing off," Katrina shrugged. "She seems originally poor, and perhaps sees in us a status she isn't used to; one through her husband she can usurp. It's all a stage for her, and if I can look under the woodwork and find something, isn't it with something?"

"You're hardly an agent of the SCIA, Katrina," Garrett pleaded. "You can't put yourself in harm's way for this. If Max is truly the top criminal, he would be the hardest one to put in the slammer."

"I need to do this, dad," Katrina begged. "What if I come home one day and Maria's living in the mayor's residence cos she likes the lampshades?"

"She's right, Garrett," Lydia nodded. "We're all at risk; we have to act."


	7. Chapter 7

KATRINA

Katrina had heard of the older Mr Spencer's reticence, seen Mrs Kinneas' disdain, and smiled to see how kindly Mrs Knoxville was. So when the helicopter landed at the younger Mr Spencer's residence, she got off to a palatial mansion, with Maria slipping sunglasses into her purse.

"Wow," Katrina uttered, only for no other words could be spoken.

If Mrs Kinneas' home was glittering, expanding upwards; then Maria's was glittering, extending _outwards_. The hill atop which Max and Maria lived shone, a jewel among the gated community of celebrity houses, and separate from the cityscape in the distance reached by a bridge.

"Max is away, you've seen how he is, so secretive," Maria sighed. "He is always busy. He never has time for me, you know."

Katrina was led into one of the spare bedrooms; and had she not seen Mrs Kinneas' skyscraper, she would have been floored. Yet it was everything she hoped to live in when she was a movie star, and yet Maria had it all; was saucy and endlessly rich and a devious, almost devilishly attractive husband, yet she would not trade it.

These people had too much money, and were hiding a secret, she was sure.

When Katrina saw Maria going out to the bartender on the lawn, she snuck down the corridor to Max and Maria's bedroom. It had a heart shaped bed, mirrors on the ceilings and decor befitting a house of ill repute. Katrina looked around, and gaped in envy at the walk in closet which Maria had her clothes in.

To the other side, was Max's walk in closet. It had everything an aspiring rapper might wear; hoodies and gold caps and bright sneakers. A lone mirror showed her reflection, and she bit her lip for how nervous she was; what would happen if she got caught?

She got an idea, and pressed her palms against the glass. It swung inward, and popped open like a closet door. There was a laptop computer with a blinking display, showing only a request for a password.

_But what could it be?_

She swung the mirror back, and it popped into place, and snuck out into the corridor once more. She met Maria at the base of the stairs, sloshing her liquor in a martini glass.

"We're goin' shopping," Maria raised her eyebrows, and sipped.

LYDIA

"Oh, you should try this," Grace sniffed, and held out a gown. It was white, columned and cinched.

Lydia held the dress some way from her face. Ideally, it was something she would go for. But what held her back, was complete contrition. She had managed to score a shopping date with Grace Knoxville - and from the way the shoppers treated her, she was just another rich housewife, except married to an actor. Lydia, of course, was the First Lady.

_How tired I feel_ , Lydia told herself. _There is only bowing and scraping._

"I have to go over to Clara's place," Grace frowned, as she paid for her purchases.

And so Lydia finagled, with extreme care though none was needed in Grace's case, a trip to the skyscraper which Katrina had only ever told her about.

"This is us," Grace shrugged, and parked her own car, which she drove, even if it was a Margaret Vaguester.

Lydia was silently enthralled by the service in the foyer and in the elevator, and out into the little foyer of the penthouse. She looked out, and saw Pleasantview, and felt if she were in a gilded cage, she'd go mad. No one to show off her success to? Please.

The butler opened the door, and Grace was shown in first. Lydia trifled, and the two sat in the living room while drinks were brought. Lydia was steeling herself; she was more than curious, and secretly admiring the chic space, and how efficiently it was all run.

"Mrs Kinneas is in Shang Simla, I'm afraid," the butler gave his deference to Grace. "A last minute excursion. She and Mr Kinneas and Hikari have all gone, to look at property."

_What a life_ , Lydia frittered.

"It's OK," Grace turned round. "Clara said I could have some of her old clothes."

"Yes… " the butler glanced over at a pair of double doors. "Right this way."

Lydia, her heart thrumming with anticipation, followed Grace into an office, where a perfectly suitable mod con office with an ensuite was laid out. Racks of magazines and pot plants adorned the room.

"Please ring if you need anything," the butler labored eyes upon Lydia, and left.

"C'mon," Grace took the spiral stairs, and Lydia thought how odd, and breathed in.

The bedroom she had risen to, had a small balcony overlooking Pleasantview with a little table and chairs.

_Such a place to have breakfast, as queen of the modern world_.

The bedroom was light and airy, in white and gold fabrics. The ensuite was as well equipped as money could buy, with a spa bath and amenities. Grace pushed her way into the walk in closet, the doors swinging, and Lydia almost put her fist in her mouth.

An entire wing was dedicated to Mrs Kinneas' fashion. Racks, as though this was a fashion shoot, lined the halls, and a raised platform with a mirror, stool and cabinets that the top paid actress would envy.

"She said she's only gonna wear Shang Simla fashion, so she wants me to have it," Grace threw over her shoulder.

Lydia saw only high priced fabrics and clothes which she had never seen in season. If she were younger, she would wear them; they were too avant garde, or too plain. Even a pair of jeans and a white top! This Mrs Kinneas certainly didn't care about looking her age.

"I need to sit down," Lydia excused herself, and sat on a console chair while Grace disappeared behind the racks, murmuring to herself.

_This is what happens with extreme wealth. Would this happen to me? Has this already happened? And can my greed never now be satisfied? Is it worth maintaining appearances when everyone knows I can never be as well bred, as well moneyed, as the Spencers or the Kinneas'?_ It made her sick to her stomach.

"I'll - i'll just use the bathroom," Lydia called.

"I'll be a while," Grace called back, with some frustration.

Lydia re entered the bedroom, and glanced over her shoulder before pulling open the drawer of the bedside table where a fashion magazine laid beside a lamp. Inside she found a laptop, and took it into the ensuite and sat on the toilet lid.

"Damn thing," Lydia stabbed at the keyboard, and the monitor blinked on. It blinked a password entry.

_How can she need a password? What means anything to her? What could she possibly prize?_

Lydia flushed and returned the computer to the drawer. She sighed, and figured she would never unlock this family's secrets. She returned to the closet, where Grace was armfuls of dresses, panting.

"I'll never get it done," Grace breathed. "Maybe we should have a hop in the spa. But I should call Clara, and ask first."

This earnest ingratiating attitude reminded Lydia of how she used to be; when she found wealth and position just needed a stepladder. She just needed a push. And so she turned to Grace.

"Forgive me for saying this," Lydia stared at her fingernails. "I feel humbled by your family."

"Really?" Grace glanced up with limpid eyes. "Sometimes they get on my nerves."

"They can effect so much change," Lydia shook her head. "Garrett and I can do only so much as mayor and his wife."

"Aw, that's not true," Grace took her hand, "You're the beacon of Pleasantview."

Lydia sighed. "If only there was some way… "

"I know!" Grace burst. "I'll make a donation."

Grace led the way into the bedroom, and down the spiral stairs. Lydia followed her, and Grace tapped at the computer.

"She gave me an account, but she never lets me in here so I don't use it," Grace typed in her password, and Lydia saw that it was _rosebud_. "What's the charity's name?"

Lydia paused. "Well, it's the Building Society for Maxim Funds."

"Oh, I haven't heard of that," Grace accessed her banking details, and Lydia could not veer round to see. "Well, I've transferred some money. I hope it's enough."

Lydia smiled and nodded as Grace logged off.

"We should probably go," Grace said, when the butler was coordinating the armfuls of clothing into taxis. "I want to stop by the bookstore and learn how to make sushi, you know. So I can impress Clara. Maybe I'll buy an Asian dress, too."

KATRINA

"You must go there, Katrina," Lydia gulped her soup, and the butler left them be. "I have the idiot girl's password. You must go there, and empty that bank account!"

"It's not that simple, mom," Katrina brushed lint off her clothes, noticeably spartan and chic, and she relaxed more. "Hack into Mrs Kinneas' account? They'd know it was me."

"No, my dear girl," Lydia chastened. "You must. These people have too much."

"Let it go, mom," Katrina insisted, as zen as a retreat in Shang Simla, from where Hikari had sent her an e-mail. "These people are here to stay. They won't run out of money; they own all the property. Most of them are weird, but face it; we're who we are at our level. They're our future if we keep grabbing."

Lydia fussed with her napkin and saw their bowls carried out. She entered the living room where the gardener passed by, and the new helicopter gleamed on the helipad.

"Katrina," Lydia called, who came in texting on her cell phone. "Who is it?"

"Hikari. They've just bought some property in Shang Simla."

"Ridiculous," Lydia tutted. "I was thinking. If these people are here to stay, then we may as well cosy up to them."

"Mom, I'm over all that," Katrina sighed. "Hikari doesn't even try, and she has all the attention and money and isn't even that happy. Why keep it up?"

"Why?" Lydia peered. "Because we're still the First Family! There are others climbing the Political ladder to unseat Garrett; rallying on a cause of more affordable housing. And as for Hikari, if not for her mother, she'd smile a bit more. You smile plenty enough. No, I was thinking that you might get to know Phillipa Spencer's son, Leo."

"Leo?" Katrina frowned. "I haven't properly met him. Besides, mom. He's just graduated; he's a young adult!"

"He is the jewel of his parents' eye," Lydia fussed with her gold watch. "He is spoiled, but they clearly treasure his growth. They would be somewhat decent parents if their union was more harmonious - the way they look at each other, it's so painful to watch - but the boy is sound. You hook him, you stand to inherit all their family fortune down the line."

"Hook him?" Katrina giggled. "Mom, surely that's exactly what it'll look like. You might as well set Alistair for Hikari to do the same. Mrs Kinneas will probably keep Hikari in a nunnery for life."

"Alistair would make a perfect husband," Lydia reproved. "If Mrs Kinneas wasn't so haughty. Now, onto Leo. Clearly, the family fortune began and is controlled by the older Mr Spencer. I can't pretend to know such things - perhaps a trust? - but he must be the trustee - "

"Surely Mrs Kinneas is the trustee," Katrina raised her eyebrows, and the butler swung his way in and out. "She's the eldest."

"You know how these old boys clubs are," Lydia waved. "Besides, Mr Spencer is the only one who has indication of work. He must do the heavy lifting. In any case, dear. Leo will be a very rich man indeed. _You_ will be part of the next generation. Mrs Knoxville's daughter is a child, and Maria's son a baby, but with Hikari as your friend, you are well replete to getting in on this family. Come to think of it, you couldn't marry better!"

"Mom," Katrina sighed.

"No, you can presume upon Hikari to introduce the two of you. Then, you will see if you can stand him. This will secure us, Katrina. Our family, I see now, is held up only by wealth and position. But _theirs_ has held up through time immemorial. Nab Leo, and you truly set us on the highest pedestal."

"But you and dad will be - " Katrina hesitated. "Forgive me, mom. But you won't be around to see it."

"No," Lydia shook and fussed. "I suppose - I suppose you're right. It really is all in my head, isn't it? It has been for as long as I can remember, my girl."


	8. Chapter 8

HIKARI

Hikari sipped tea from a little cup, kneeling on cushions while maids passed by through sliding doors. Outside, birds flitted in the trees. The majestic view afforded by the three-storey home, even if it was spartan and small, spoke volumes to the surrounding neighborhood where this home was atop a hill.

"I'm thinking of buying it," her mother's voice made her jump.

Clara Kinneas wore a qipao and her hair tied into a chignon with chopsticks. She poured sake and took a hit.

"Buying what, mom?" Hikari watched her mother, who glanced out the window.

"That," Clara pointed, and Hikari saw a vast courtyard and layout.

"I only see the Temple of Heaven," Hikari frowned, and her mother nodded. "The temple! Mom, I don't think you can buy the temple."

"The location's a bit public, but we can use the revenue," Clara shrugged. "Besides, there's a tomb underneath. We can refit it and go there for silence."

"I don't think you charge people entry," Hikari raised her eyebrows. "It's a place of peace and meditation."

"There's always money to be made," Clara raised her eyebrows. "Besides, why should these people traipse around our property for free? Why should they even enter?"

"It's cultural, mom!" Hikari cried.

"Being friends with that Cartwright girl has made you renegade," Clara rose. "You won't see her again."

"Mom!" Hikari pleaded, and Clara Kinneas slid the door open and shut.

LEO

Leo was on the back porch of his parents' house, painting from an easel of the backyard when the butler coughed quietly.

"Miss. Katrina Cartwright to see you, sir," the butler nodded.

"Oh, yes," Leo fiddled, and replaced his paintbrush.

He came into the foyer, and Katrina wore simple clothing, a cleaner fresher look.

"Sorry for disturbing you," Katrina gestured. "I should have called first."

"That's alright," Leo blinked. "I think I know what this is about."

"Her mom doesn't like me," Katrina raised her eyebrows, and crumpled. "I'm sorry. But I miss her."

The butler interceded. "I'll bring you tea in the living room."

Leo led Katrina into the living room, and they sat on adjacent chairs. Everything was so still and quiet, as he had always liked it.

"Where are your parents?" Katrina blew her nose on a handkerchief he proffered.

"My dad is working, and my mom is out at the gardening store," Leo uttered, and at this Katrina laughed.

"Oh, Leo," Katrina shook her head. "Your family is so eccentric. I can tell you, my family is nowhere near as rich as yours, and yet both wish to appear as above work, and beyond labor as possible."

"I suppose that's it," Leo clasped his hands together. "My parents don't want to appear above everyone. They want to fit in, with all the comforts money provides."

"At least you can say your parents truly wish you every happiness," Katrina nodded. "I mean, for Hikari. Kept like a bird in a cage up there. Even her father must kowtow to his wife's wishes. Sorry - I don't mean to disparage your aunt."

"We all orbit around my aunt," Leo offered a little smile. "My father, my mother."

"Because she's the eldest?" Katrina sniffed.

"Perhaps that," Leo paused. "My uncle Max is a bit more tug n' pull. He's the more argumentative one. But then, he's always been involved in shady deals."

"You know," Katrina began. "My mother was so upset when my father won the election. My parents thought they were the top of the heap. And here was this private family, sects in Pleasantview and beyond, far further than she might ever reach. And my father, well - he's mayor, but nor is he truly the man around town."

"Does it bother you?" Leo eyed her. "My family only happens to own almost all the real estate in Pleasantview. But they do not seek to control it."

Katrina shrugged, and didn't entirely believe that. Perhaps Leo was a kind soul, and saw little of what his family could be capable of if pushed.

"I'm due to graduate soon," Katrina fiddled with her bracelet. "Hikari, too. Do you think your aunt will let her even go on campus?"

"Hikari wants to go to university, even if only to get away from my aunt," Leo nodded. "Whatever she studies, I doubt her mother will let her do anything besides paint in the afternoon while butlers clean up after her. Certainly not in Show Business."

Katrina rankled, and rose. "Well, I should be going. Could you check on Hikari for me? It would be great to go to Academie Le Tour with her."

"Oh, yes," Leo nodded, and saw her out. He went to his father's study, and picked up the phone.

"Kinneas' residence," answered the butler.

"Could I please speak with Hikari? It's her cousin, Leo."

"Of course. One moment… "

"Leo?" Hikari answered. "Now's not a good time."

"I hoped to check in on you, see everything's OK?" Leo pondered.

"Well, she's bought a temple. A temple!" Hikari laughed, frantic. "I don't know where she'll stop. She acts like she owns the entire world."

Leo laughed, and added, "Katrina sends her regards. She hopes to share a room with you at Academie Le Tour."

"Speaking on that front," Hikari hesitated. "My mom's saying why should I go to a _university_? Not that it's beneath us; but that it's so _public_. She fears what trouble I'll get into with boys. As if I've ever kissed one! And she's having a tutor come to teach me how to paint."

"But you don't like painting," Leo pointed out.

"No, I don't," Hikari laughed, gurgled. "But _she_ does. It's like she's trying to protect a younger version of herself. She doesn't see _me_. God, I wish I had been brought up on your side of the family. Your parents give you love and compassion."

"My parents," Leo flicked at a piece of lint on his pants. "Yes. I am very grateful. But there has always been something between them keeping them apart. I suspect that if not for me, they would not truly get along. And they don't fight - but nor are they as gushy as uncle Max and aunt Maria, or caring towards each other as aunt Grace and uncle Johnny."

"Our family," Hikari sighed. "Well, my future's already set. What about yours? What about the great heir to all this?"

"I'm sure my parents will be fine either way, whether I'm a writer or a gardener, anything that keeps me indoors or at home," Leo shrugged. "But it worries me, Hikari. Katrina said the same. You'll be an adult soon enough, and free."

"Yes, free," Hikari considered. "But my allowance stems from my mother. And she keeps a tight enough rein on my father."

"If it comes to that, my parents will help you," Leo nodded. "And you won't be alone. Even if we both find a place somewhere."

"Thank you," Hikari wept. "I'd better go."

LYDIA

"Wow," Grace gaped at Lydia's house.

This, Lydia thought primly, was a bit much considering Grace had all the money she could ever want, and relations whose houses were bigger. Yet Grace was all earnestness, and Lydia gave her tour with all the aplomb of a museum director.

"It's really nice," Grace sniffed, and glanced over the balcony of the three-storied rec room with a hot tub bubbling away. "Can we go in?"

"I wouldn't want to change this close to lunch," Lydia pursed her lips, not having worn a bathing suit in years, nor for the comparison Grace would surely present. "Is lobster thermidor OK?"

"Course!" Grace cheered, and when they both reached the dining room, napkins settled and china clinked, they were left in peace by the butler.

"Your family intrigues me so," Lydia savored the first bite. "I feel as though we are friends. I will tell you a bit more about mine."

"Oh, yes, please," Grace smiled. "Katrina's so glamorous, and I see your twins Alexandra and Conrad the height of all parties."

"Well," Lydia began, rattling in nostalgia. "Garrett began in Business, as you know. We married, and took to a small house. As I had children, so did his career bloom. It was a horrid business. So much infighting and squabbling. I felt I had to keep up appearances to keep our heads above water."

"Oh, that's awful," Grace saddened.

"We had a fortune, but not time," Lydia squared her shoulders. "When Garrett moved into Politics, appearances were everything. Alistair is our golden child, and the twins were difficult, but Katrina is my daughter as Alistair is Garrett's. We fought tooth and nail to rise to the top. Garrett's opponents fell like dominoes. He became mayor, and I First Lady."

"And how do you like it? Gosh, I wonder what being First Lady is like," Grace considered.

Lydia flushed. From her propensity to learn how Grace got her house, it inflamed her that Grace might just as easily replace her as First Lady. _And for all my hard work_.

"And what about you?" Lydia steadied. "You and your siblings? What was life like before the children came?"

"Oh, well I went to Sim State University," Grace shrugged. "My parents bought me a little house on campus, and I filled it with girls who wandered by on the street. I made a little sorority, and I forgot to study. Somehow I passed the exam, and then on a trip to Bridgeport, I met Johnny. I liked him, but he didn't know that. Suddenly, he started taking me on dates."

Lydia nodded, fascinated with how this story might end.

"Johnny was rich, of course. But he liked me for me. And when he took me to his mansion, and all the paparazzi, I told him I couldn't live in the limelight. And yet, I loved him. I married him, had Kylie, but then a spot opened up here. And here we are."

Grace smiled and took a sip of juice. Lydia fiddled with her wine stem.

"And what about your siblings?" Lydia arched her eyebrows. "The brothers Spencer, and Mrs Kinneas?"

"Oh, well Adam went to Sim State University as well. He studied literature and went in a dorm. His was the only furnished really posh. Then when he graduated, he worked his way up the Business ladder. He met Phillipa when she was teaching kindergarten, and Adam asked the Landgraabs to buy their mansion and had Leo."

Lydia was intrigued. "And the others?"

"Well, Max never really went to school, or university. Our parents gave him tutors, but he just ran away. I think he once was in the Criminal career while he was a teen, and never really gave it up. But he hates hard work. I think he's retired now. He found Maria, and she's as devious as he is."

Grace wiped her lips with a napkin.

"And Clara went to Academie Le Tour. She _hated_ our mother - she rebelled and after graduating in Art, she took up with Irvine. He was a ladies man before she met him, and after graduation they moved to Champs Les Sims and had Hikari."

"Interesting," Lydia nodded. "You all have taken such different paths through life. Can I be completely honest?"

"Oh, Lydia," Grace giggled. "I am always honest. You know me."

Lydia fiddled with her wine glass. "Surely, I understand now that your wealth is yours, not Johnny's. And Irvine is a kept man, and Maria and Phillipa the equivalent."

"We've always been rich," Grace nodded. "That's the way it's always been."

Lydia's grip tightened. "But Adam Spencer still saw fit to enter the Business career?"

"Oh, he got bored," Grace shrugged. "But now he's at the top, so he doesn't have to work as hard. Just check his investments on his computer, or something."

"And your parents?" Lydia was fit to burst. "Did they work, too?"

"Oh, no," Grace fiddled. "My dad was always traveling, and my mom mainly raised us."

"Forgive me for being blunt," Lydia peered over the table. "But as you may not know, I studied a bit of history at Academie Le Tour. And my husband is something of a scion in public office. And neither of us could put two and two together, of how your family became so rich. Garrett's father and _his_ father were always in Business. I mean, the Goths have always handed down their wealth! Bella is married into old money."

"Hmm, I don't think we're old money," Grace pushed her plate aside and drained her glass of juice. "We had enough to live on, and then - well, I'm the youngest - when all my siblings graduated university, they started planning their futures. They started buying property, and furniture and cars. We didn't inherit it from our parents. And I came into my money when I graduated. Adam opened the bank account for me."

"And your parents? Do they still live?" Lydia picked up her fork.

"Oh, yes," Grace nodded. "We don't see them anymore, and they keep to themselves. But they live on that little house at the end of the road overlooking the ocean."


	9. Chapter 9

HIKARI

"Thank you, thank you," Hikari put down the phone.

She came out of her mother's office, and met her butler in the living room.

"Please, where are my parents?" she asked.

"Mr Kinneas is taking Mrs Kinneas out to that new restaurant," the butler inclined. "He's bought it as a surprise, but she of course found that out and instructed me to staff it early."

"Oh," Hikari scratched her nose. "I'm just going out. I won't be long."

Hikari's hands shook as she entered the elevator, and another butler pressed the lobby button. She walked through the lobby and out into fresh sunshine, knowing what she was doing, her mother would explode for.

A car pulled up at the kerb, and Conrad was inside. Tousled blonde hair, light blue eyes, a canny glint not unlike her uncle Max. She swung in the passenger seat, and her glittering skyscraper soon became a dot in the distance as he drove into the hills, and nature was all around them when they got out.

"It's beautiful," Hikari smiled, and a butterfly settled on her shoulder, and darted away.

GARRETT

Garrett was reviewing papers in his office - another harried, tiring day - when his secretary buzzed.

"Mrs Spencer to see you, sir."

Garrett brushed the lint of his pants, and rose to receive Phillipa, wondering what on earth she could want in person. The doors opened, and in stepped Maria, clutching a handkerchief. His secretary closed the doors.

"Maria," Garrett replied, surprised. "What on earth's the matter?"

"He's cheating," Maria wept. "I thought I was safe, but he's been doing it with that film actress. You know, the one Matthew Hammond used to date? Of course, now he's living out of a cardboard box. And me! What am I and Diablo to do?"

"Your husband is cheating," Garrett repeated, and thought it not unlikely. "I'm not the best person to talk to about this… "

"Of course you are," Maria sniffed. "I want to escape."

"You'll need to see a lawyer for a divorce," Garrett fidgeted.

"A divorce? Hah! I'll get nothing," Maria sourly added. "My best hope is to hunker down somewhere. Out of sight, out of mind."

"I shouldn't be hearing this," Garrett shifted weight on his legs.

"Oh, yes. You are indebted to my husband's family," Maria let out a bitter laugh. "I had hoped you were a man of integrity, of _honor_. Now I see you are a politician no better than your predecessor - giving Clara Kinneas a skyscraper in a residential town! Who could think of such a thing!"

Garrett idly realised that here was a real chance to envelop the Spencers in scandal - and yet open himself wide to their revenge. It was what his wife would want, and what his position forbade.

"I could tell you things," Maria mumbled. "If you grant me escape, I will tell you the things I know. Oh-ho, yes. I've bumped into a room where only those four siblings talk without their better halves. And yes, I've heard. I know what's going on. But only if you help me, first."

LYDIA

Lydia signaled to the driver. The sedan pulled up in front of a beach house, fairly spectacular, but not out of sorts with the richer houses dotted around Pleasantview.

She walked up the path, and rang the doorbell. A maid answered.

"Mrs Lydia Cartwright," she raised her chin. "I'm here without appointment, to see the Spencers."

"Oh, yes please," the maid showed her in. "Right this way."

Lydia noted that everything was minimalist and chrome, as though the home was a retirement abode for the transition of age to go as smooth as possible. Her heels clacked as she reached the living room, with sliding doors and a curtain fluttering in the breeze.

"The First Lady of Pleasantview," the maid bobbed, and took her leave.

The wrinkled, aged woman who wore a loose tunic and long skirt glanced up.

"Oh, I've seen you on the telly," Mrs Spencer smiled. "Please. I'll have some tea made."

Lydia took her seat on the couch. Mrs Spencer's hands rattled as she took spoons and put in sugar.

"A-are you sure I can't call for the maid?" Lydia wavered, struck between the similarity of her own mother, who yet had been so haughty and vain.

"Oh, no. It gives me something to do," Mrs Spencer smiled, and held out the teacup. "Ah, that's better. You know, it's not often I have visitors."

"What about your husband?" Lydia peered. "Your daughter Grace mentioned he travels a lot."

"Oh, well I barely see him either," Mrs Spencer shrugged, shaking with the exertion of sipping her tea. "This place is only for me and the maid. My memory's a bit foggy, to be honest. We married and had the kids, but it all slips away in the passage of time."

Lydia tightened her grip on her teacup.

"You'll forgive the intrusion, I'm sure. And only acting out of your daughter's best interests, I thought it best to come to you first," Lydia continued. "You see, I have heard from your daughter an account of how your children have led their lives. And what sparks my curiosity is, that it seems their wealth - "

"Oh, that," Mrs Spencer nodded, and set her cup down. "Well, we started out with enough. It was a trust, you see. And when our youngest - Grace - graduated, only enough remained to keep us idle and young, as you can see."

"I hesitate to mention this," Lydia wavered. "But your eldest son entered the Business career, and your younger son dabbled in the Criminal career."

"Well, Adam was buying property left right and center once he graduated, or so Grace told me," Mrs Spencer raised her eyebrows. "She's the only one who checks in, you see. And Max was always delinquent. Of course, he didn't do it for the money. He had enough of his own."

"And do you know - what happened?" Lydia leaned in. "From the sounds of it, neither you or your husband, or the careers of your children, served to enrich them so valuably. It sounds rather like the lottery was won."

"We did think that at first," Mrs Spencer chuckled. "My husband and I learned not to expect answers. We were left with enough, of course. But my memory does fade."

A silence left Mrs Spencer glad for company, and Lydia more irritable than ever.

LEO

Leo followed the directions on the map, and his Yomoshoto's lights blinked twice at the pair he saw on the outskirts of the forest. He got out, where Hikari hugged him, and Conrad both sheepish, and frustrated.

"I only bought it a couple months ago," Conrad scratched his head, gesturing to his sports car. "I'm the man with this shit. If there were laneways, I'd buy a proper racing car."

"As long as you're both safe," Leo gestured. "C'mon. I should get you both home."

"My mother's gonna kill me," Hikari shivered, and Conrad unzipped his biker jacket.

Leo swung into the driver's seat, but Conrad rested his hand on the door.

"I owe ya, man. But I promise, if time's not on our side, I'll get us there faster."

Leo glanced to Hikari, who nodded.

"He's a good driver," Hikari promised, and Leo handed over the keys and got into the backseat, and Conrad revved the engine.

"Dude, you should really upgrade," Conrad swung the car into reverse, and aimed down the lane. "You've got the money, dontcha?"

"My father's money," Leo smiled, and felt a little awkward sitting alone in the backseat, chauffeured in his own car.

GARRETT

"Well, it told me nothing I couldn't have figured out on my own," Lydia emerged from the bathroom, and sat at her dresser rubbing hand cream. "Garrett, are you listening? It seems the money isn't old at all. It seems to be some kind of lottery - but even lottery amounts have never been so high."

"Yes, dear," Garrett nodded absently. He sat on the edge of their bed. "I was just thinking about Maria."

"Well, we all saw it was happening," Lydia sniffed. "But to want to escape? She surely wants to preserve her husband's family from scandal."

"She said she had information," Garrett shrugged. "But if her husband's not even in the Criminal career anymore, I'm not sure what could be so damaging."

"If they were running for public office, I'm sure it is the type of information which would scarper their chances. I do agree with you there, dear," Lydia nodded. "But I'm beyond what makes them look bad. My curiosity remains unsated. What fell from the skies to give the Spencers such wealth, that it could not have landed in our lap all the same?"

The phone at their bedside rang, and Garrett glanced up, surprised for it was only to be in emergencies that calls were directed to his home. He picked it up.

"Garrett," came Adam Spencer's voice. "My son and niece are missing. I want the army helicopter to scour Pleasantview at once."


	10. Chapter 10

LYDIA

Lydia sat in her living room, twisting a cocktail napkin into shreds, watching the clock. Katrina and Alexandra and Alistair joined her, all grave and silent, as still in the house which was as quiet as Lydia had ever wanted it to be, in those early days when her husband was a workaholic and her children could never give her a moment's peace.

"He always stays out late," Alexandra figured. "I just guessed… "

Alistair laid a hand on Alexandra's, and Katrina glanced nervously to her mother.

"He'll be fine," Lydia nodded. "Although why your friends Leo and Hikari should be missing also; I cannot divine. What could cause Conrad to socialise with two such introverts?"

"Hikari's not an introvert, mom," Katrina began. "She just is a bit shy, a bit cowed from her mother."

"Well, in any case," Lydia inhaled. "Your father has the army scouring the town. Likely Conrad's just taken them to some dive bar in Bridgeport, and you know that city. So many buildings and lights. It'll take a while - "

Lydia choked back a sob at the first thought, and held firm.

GARRETT

Garrett felt uneasy riding in the cockpit of his own helicopter, on the outskirts of Pleasantview where a lane wound. It descended, and he saw the spiral of smoke and smelled the fumes, and saw the Yomoshoto twisted around a streetlamp.

"It's not good sir," spoke the pilot, and Garrett stepped off, to where police cars and ambulances and fire engines were closely converging.

Garrett's coat billowed in the wind as he glimpsed nothing, and everything. Stretchers were pulled, and tape cordoned. The shuffle, quiescence of movement until there were bumps, and he saw his younger son's face, ashy and blinking.

"Good god," Garrett collapsed, and held his son's hand. "You! With your race cars! You've shaken me, my boy. I'll chauffeur you myself if I ever recover from the shock you've given me."

"He wasn't the driver, sir," spoke an army soldier, ill at ease with having been wrested off his duties for this. He saw enough action beyond shores. "He was found in the back seat."

"You're a daredevil," Garrett wanted to rattle his son. "You're a spark of life not yet snuffed out. Thank the gods!"

The stretcher was pulled to, and Garrett watched his son loaded into the ambulance.

"Where - where are the others? Where's my son's car?"

"They all drove in this one, I'm afraid," the police officer took off his cap. "Mayor, I'm sorry to say that your son was the only one who survived."

LYDIA

Lydia shook as the car pulled up outside the skyscraper. She got out, and the servicemen were disconsolate and grieving, and she entered the elevator which was unmanned and pressed the penthouse button.

The ascent tripled her insides. She felt sick, and closed her eyes. She exhaled, and stepped out. In the little foyer, the door was ajar, and she pushed in.

The apartment was white and chic as she had seen it once before, but furniture was wrapped in boxes.

"Hello?" Lydia called.

She stepped into the office, and heard a flushing sound from the ensuite. Lydia held her chin up, her hands respectfully clasped, as Clara Kinneas emerged, her eyes red and wrapped in a kimono. Her scowl could cut audiences to shreds.

"Get out," Clara spat, and Lydia held firm. "Your son's caused the death of my daughter. I'll have him put behind bars, don't you worry."

"He - he wasn't the driver, Garrett said," Lydia wavered.

"Oh, bullshit," Clara sniffed, and sat behind her desk. A symbol of power, of the rein held over Pleasantview, was enough imagery for Lydia to take a seat.

"It's true," Lydia uttered. "The medical crew found him there. And - and Conrad says he offered to drive, and became irritated at the controls - he said a Yomoshoto was too middle class for him - and Leo took the controls instead. Your daughter was found in the front passenger."

"I know very well where she was found," Clara snapped. "Don't you dare lecture me. Don't you dare invade on _my_ family's grief. You know nothing."

Lydia knew well she herself would have the same outrage had Conrad died in that accident. Yet she would not be shaken.

"I came to offer my condolences," Lydia held her chin up. "To you, and to your husband."

"Husband," Clara shook her head. "He is my husband no more. He left, thanks to you."

Lydia was growing infuriated.

"To me?" Lydia growled. "I did not separate your family. What on earth can this conduct become? Why should he leave you at such a time?"

"Because it's over," Clara cleared her throat. "He knew he loved me not, or no longer, and without Hikari he pulled the plug. I thought he stayed on for the money, at least. Even Maria's up sticks and left Max, but he was cheating from the beginning. That stupid harlot."

Lydia was vaguely aware that this family was disintegrating. But she could not triumph. Only a hollow in her stomach, a chance that had saved Conrad had been as unlikely a chance that had so enriched this family, and yet money could not recover their children.

"Well," Lydia rose. "If you ever need to talk. As a private citizen to another private citizen. As a mother, who knows how close it is to grieve the loss of a child."

Clara glanced up unblinkingly, and Lydia thought how horrid a childhood she must have had; to be so openly rebuking, to rebel against her mother, to wrap herself in all the cling wrap of money. She would have made a formidable First Lady to any husband.

"You know nothing about me," Clara spat.

"I know a little," Lydia heaved. "And my Katrina cared for Hikari. And I daresay cared for her more than anyone else who claimed to be her friend. I could not bear losing Katrina. And she has become a better person for knowing Hikari - kinder, sweeter. And I - I only wish _we_ had become closer friends. I suspect much of the steel in your spine is shared by me."

GARRETT

Garrett's chauffeur drove into the Landgraab's old house, and there Garrett got out and was met at the front door by the butler.

"You will forgive me sir," the butler dabbed his eyes. "Please, come this way."

Into the living room Garrett strode, and saw Phillipa Spencer, still in her dressing gown, and clutching a handkerchief.

"Mayor," she croaked, and glanced up with what she hoped was a smile.

"Forgive me," the mayor took her hand. "Forgive me and my family for putting you through this."

"Oh, mayor," Phillipa's grip was as limp as lettuce, and suddenly Garrett wanted to let go. "There is nothing you could have done. It is life. Fickle and free."

Garrett took back his hand when time allowed, and time pained Phillipa most. She glanced up at the tick of the grandfather clock and grimaced.

"He was a good boy," Phillipa sobbed, and buried in her handkerchief. "We gave him everything, and made sure not to make him idle or spoilt. My husband feared he would turn into a spendthrift. But Leo - h-he was always well merited. He is his father's son, the way his father feels he cannot be in some ways."

"I am sorry for your loss," Garrett cleared his throat, lest the emotion thicken him. He needed to be the man in this conversation, to direct as a politician would. He would be no use babbling.

"My husband, you understand, is out of town. He cannot cope," Phillipa blubbered. "In grief, my company will not do."

Phillipa shared a look, and Garrett understood.

"It has been that way before we met. And yet, I loved him. And he loved me. And when we had Leo, such was his desire to raise a child properly, and my own love for raising a child, that we could not separate. And we had to continue."

"That is a very brave and commendable approach," Garrett nodded.

"Of course, Maria has left poor Max. And Irvine has left Clara," Phillipa gestured with her handkerchief. "Only Grace and Johnny are truly in love. I pray they do not lose Kylie. But if life calls that roll of the dice, then they shall grow through it. Oh, I've been such a fool."

"Phillipa, please don't," Garrett shook his head. "I, and my family, grieve with you at this time."

KATRINA

"You look so… well," Katrina sniffed, her arm on the rail of the hospital bed. "You'd like the way you look. You'd attract a girlfriend, or so you'd think."

Conrad laughed, and gripped his ribs. The nurse made adjustments and frowned.

"It wasn't his fault," Conrad stared soberly. "He was driving, and she was laughing, and I sensed between them a cordality. A friendship. Something denied her, at least, until you came along."

"Were you interested in her?" Katrina asked, and Conrad grimaced.

"Too nice. Beautiful, but too sweet. Voice like an angel," Conrad smirked.

"The school is having a remembrance. There is a statue proposed to be put up," Katrina fiddled with the cords on her sweatshirt. "She wanted to be free. Free like the wind."

Conrad coughed and sipped some water through a straw. "Well, I know once I'm better, her mother wants me put away."

"You can't," Katrina alerted. "You weren't even driving!"

"It's the Spencers," Conrad rolled his eyes. "And dad is only the mayor."

"I'm sick of hearing about them," Katrina stomped her foot. "I'm sick of it! Their money is nothing to them now. Gravity has taken its toll. And I for one, grieve with all of them. But it impresses me no longer. And I think mom and dad are the same."

"You don't think dad will quit?" Conrad tried to sit up, but failed.

"He's quite hardened," Katrina rebuked. "But mom is at a loss. She sees what can happen. Mrs Kinneas wasn't looking - and Hikari was lost to her. It's made mom think that she should be watching you and Alexandra more, and all of us. Time is essential, you know."

"I'll never get behind the wheel of a race car - or any car," Conrad's voice shook. "That night will be burned into my memory forever."

GARRETT

Garrett stood in the church, as the bodies were laid to rest. The Spencers were in force, and Lydia stood by his side, as ever she had.

Adam walked over to the mayor after the service, and shook his hand.

"I appreciate what you did for my son," Adam said, with sober reflection, with eyes as blue as the sky. "And for my niece. Truly. You may call yourself a politician, but there is a beating heart under there. And for your family."

Garrett nodded, and walked with Adam outside into the sunlight. It pained them all, Garrett saw, pained the Spencers to glimpse movement and bright light and _life_.

"You will be aware," Adam spoke quietly. "Phillipa and I have separated."

Garrett saw, from afar a pair of eyes watching the two of them; an athletics instructor from some TV show his daughter used to watch.

"And Maria's taken Diablo, and Max I fear will get himself into drink or worse. And Clara will be going to Shang Simla to make a new life for herself… "

"And you?" Garrett asked. "Surely, the question is not unwarranted, if you will forgive my pardon. What will _you_ do?"

Adam shrugged. "I have resigned from Business. I have only the old Landgraab property to keep clean. What will I do? Leo did all that I wanted for myself."

Garrett watched as Clara and Max shared a car, and Grace dabbed her eyes as Johnny held open the door into the limo. Lydia and their children watched nearby.

"My wife met your parents - well, your mother," Garrett cleared his throat.

"Yes. We only knew them briefly," Adam fiddled with his cufflinks, and ripped them out and dropped them on the pavement, his face torn with frustration. "I regret it. I wonder if things had gone another way."

Adam glimpsed to the sunshine, and Garrett nodded in studied silence.

"I will not be seeking another term," Garrett spoke. "I will be retiring, and moving to a smaller abode with my family. My wife and children need not be subject to the public any longer. But I _will_ serve my term. That promise I give you."

"Oh, Garrett. You serve only the public, hardly me alone," Adam wept, and wiped his eyes. "At least I have Kyan. But a _family_. I took it for granted."

"You gave Leo everything," Garrett laid a hand on his shoulder. "And your sister protected Hikari as much as possible. It is _not your fault_."

"You're a good man to say it," Adam smiled. "A politician with integrity. Pleasantview needs you. At least you can rail one thing from the pulpit: that the skyscraper might be used for housing. You might mention in your speech how you swayed us. You might even name it after _her_ and your legacy will be untarnished."

Garrett watched as Adam left by sedan, and his family drew to a close behind him, and their eyes went to the skyscraper, disconsolately stabbing for the sky, in the heavens where she now rested.


End file.
